Careful What You Wish For
by kashkow
Summary: This is my AU version of one of the first season episodes. Have tried repeatedly to fix formatting in third "chapter" after my chapter 16, but it will not work. Does anyone have a clue how to make it stop doing this? Hopefully you can still read it.
1. Chapters 1 thru 7

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

**Chapters 1-7**

**by Ellen H**

**Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.**

**Chapter 1**

The man who now called himself Heath Barkley drew his black Modoc horse to a stop as the cattle he had just chased from the bush joined the herd that they were forming in Potter's meadow. It was time to move the cattle up to the high country where the grass would stay green and sweet for several more months before the searing heat of the valley summer could turn it brown. He removed his battered tan Stetson and wiped at his brow with his sleeve, then replaced the hat on his sweat-matted blond hair. Here it was early May and already it was hot; that didn't bode well for the summer. The temperature could easily soar into the hundreds as early as June, and almost certainly would. He squinted into the distance, watching as Nick, his brother Nick, herded a few more cattle into the herd. There was no mistaking that black clad figure.

It was still a surprise to him to look at another man and think that is my brother. Of course as hard as it was for him, he had ample proof that it was even harder for Nick. While the rest of the Barkley family had accepted him wholeheartedly, Nick continued to be…well, Nick. He had made it more than plain that while the rest might accept Heath, and in fact it might even be true that Tom Barkley did sire the boy, he didn't have to like it. "And boy howdy, Heath thought to himself, "When Nick Barkley don't like something, everybody is goin' to know bout it."

His brother was a force to be reckoned with that was for sure. In fact you could probably say that about all the Barkleys, though Audra and Gene were not yet full-grown and hadn't come into it as well as the other three. Where Nick was a slashing bowie knife, all out there and ready to shred you at the drop of a hat; Jarrod Barkley was one of those thin little Italian knives that looked so sissified, but that could kill quickly and quietly when in the hand of a skilled knifeman. Subtle and sharp he was. And Mrs. Barkley…..boy howdy but that was a woman! She was like a surgeon's scalpel. So sharp that just looking at it gave you a cut.

She was perhaps the most dangerous of all to a man who's own mother had died less than a year ago. He found himself comparing them; the ways they were alike and the ways they were different. He could easily live with Nick's dislike, he had been disliked for most of his life for something he couldn't change, and this was no different. He could live with Jarrod's distance, knowing it was not about him, but just because the man was busy. He wasn't sure he could live with her…he searched his mind for a term, and could only come up with the awkward 'motherness'. That she cared deeply for her children was plain to see, that she seemed to be coming to feel some small part of the same for him was a puzzle he could not decipher. Why should this grand lady even look at him with any amount of regard? It was surely a puzzle.

He cast an expert eye at the sun. Still a few hours yet to work then he could go home and soak in that big fancy tub in some cold water. After Nick got done of course. He had been very blunt in his statement of who ruled the roost and who was a just another poor chicken left with the leavings. He didn't mind though. He often thought about telling Nick that the very things that he, Nick, considered second best, were incredibly precious to Heath. Before coming here he had only used a real bathtub once before.

Once when he was down in New Orleans and had an incredible run of luck at the tables he had sent the major portion to his mother for her use, and had taken a portion of the rest and rented him a room in the finest hotel in the city; the biggest room they had, with a big claw foot porcelain tub like nothing he had ever seen before. The hot water had seemed endless, and he had soaked himself until he had felt like a prune. To be able to use one on a daily basis, even if he had to go second, was a privilege he would not soon get used to. Of course, he thought with a smile, should he tell that to Nick it would take some of the satisfaction away from his older brother. He seemed to be enjoying it so much, why ruin his day?

Heath turned his mare back toward the patch of brush and broken land that he had been assigned to sweep. He was pretty sure that they had found every stray hiding there, but he would check again rather than be caught out by some mossy horn wonderin' out of some gully somewhere bellowin' for his harem. Wouldn't that give Nick something to crow about? He could feel the branches scraping against his chaps as he moved through the dense brush, glad of their protection. He had seen men come out of country like this with their pants torn to shreds and their legs covered in scratches. He had bought the chaps last month with his first pay from the ranch. He had spent only a small fraction of the sum that still sent his head to reeling. If he could have made this much money every month before his mama took sick….he shook off that thought.

He didn't think any amount of money would have saved his Mama. She had the cancer, the doctor said, and it was eatin' her up from inside out. It hadn't seemed fair to Heath. She had taken so much in her life, it seemed as if she should have had a quiet and peaceful death. It wasn't to be though, and he had learned a lesson about quiet dignity in the face of pain and misfortune from her that he would never forget. It made the hostility he faced daily from Nick, and the men that saw what he did and took up the cause, bearable. Again he shrugged off the thoughts. They weren't getting him anywhere, and they weren't gonna change anything. He continued his sweep of the area, whistling softly to himself and the mare.

Nick Barkley glanced up at the sun and estimated the time. It was getting near quitting time. He cast a practiced eye over the herd. Yes, they had gotten most, if not all, of the cows that should have been in the area. He frowned as he watched a lone rider move out of the broken country to the west. He knew who it was, though the figure was only a silhouette against the setting sun. He had assigned that section to…..he couldn't even think it to himself. He had assigned it to Heath. The man that everyone seemed to think deserved to be called a Barkley. Deserved to have a say in how things were done here, here on the land his father had fought and died for. Here in the place where Nick Barkley was king, and he didn't intend to share it with anyone but his own sons in time.

Thinking of his own sons made his mind drift for a moment to the woman who had promised to wed him; Maria, dark of hair and eye and so very sweet. But there was spirit in her, spirit that matched his, and pride in her heritage. What would she think about the family bas…he stopped. As time had passed he had strangely found himself disliking that word, and could not bring himself to use it even in connection with this interloper. He snorted to himself, his eyes focusing on the rider coming toward the herd. He could see that the man was pushing one last animal, from the size of it one of the bulls. He had intentionally given Heath the worst part of the job, working the broken areas, and had been given no satisfaction at all. Heath had simply gotten out his chaps and had good-naturedly gone to work that morning. He had stopped for lunch with the rest of the men, sitting by himself until Duke had gone to sit with him.

Nick wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. He had always counted on Duke's loyalty to the family, and at first it had seemed to him that the man's seemingly easy acceptance of Heath was a direct slap in the face of that loyalty. As was his way he had faced Duke with his concerns, and had been taken aback by what he had been told. Duke had looked him in the eye and with the familiarity of a man who had known Nick when he was still in diapers, called him a damned fool. He had told Nick how he had met a young man, a young man just come out to California not long before with his young wife. They had been living in a small shack, hardly big enough for themselves and their two sons, four year old, Jarrod and newly born, Nick. Heath was the spitting image of that young man. In fact he was more like Tom Barkley than any of his legitimate children.

Duke had stopped for a moment and looked around him at the ranch, the barns, the house, the fences and corrals. Then he had turned back to Nick and once again met his eyes. "If you can't find it in yourself to accept that boy, then you're going against everything you ever said you stood for, this family, this ranch. That boy is a part of this. He should have been a part all along. Why he wasn't I guess we'll never know for sure. But he's got as much of your daddy's blood in him as you do, and I figure that makes him one hell of a man. A man you can't afford to dismiss because you got your knickers in a twist about your daddy and what he did over twenty years ago. He was a man Nick, not a saint. He made mistakes, and he paid for most of them. Heath had to pay for one hell of a big one, and it ain't fair of you to blame him for something that he had no hand in. Now I been taking Barkley money for a long time, and I hope to keep taking it until I fall off my horse dead, but you don't give me my opinions or my likes and dislikes. He's a good man, and I'll treat him as such. What you do is up to you." With that the man had walked off, and had been true to his word. He had done his best to make Heath welcome, and had taken the sharp edge of his tongue to any man who said a word against him in his presence. Others had followed his example and a small group of the men had started treating Heath just like they would Nick. In fact several had wondered over after Duke when he went to have lunch with Heath and had stayed there, talking companionably.

After lunch Heath had gone back into the bush. He had chased out an amazing number of cows. Nick had been watching surreptitiously. The man seemed to be good at just about anything that Nick set him to, and he did it uncomplainingly. The only time the man had really balked was when Nick tried to get him to take another horse for the round up. That little black mare of his was a good enough horse Nick supposed, though she didn't seem big enough for much of anything that she did. The horse was fast, and agile, and seemed devoted to her rider. Nick had seen the little mare turn into a squealing, kicking tornado when another of the horses in the remuda had dared to offer his head for a scratch to the blond cowboy. She had charged the larger gelding with no fear, and had driven him off with a fierceness that had faded at the first touch of her master's hand. When Nick had made the suggestion the day before, it had been out of no other motive than to enforce his control over the other man. Heath had simply looked at him and shook his head. Nick had felt he needed to exert his authority and had ordered the younger man to get another horse. Heath had kept saddling the mare as if he hadn't heard.

That was when Nick had almost made a big mistake. He had reached up and grabbed at the other man's shoulder, meaning to spin the slightly smaller man around to face him. Instead the boy had moved like a burst of wind, and had been several feet away and in a semi crouch before Nick's hand could make contact. The blue eyes, usually shuttered, sparked cold blue fire.

"Keep ya hands to yourself." He growled, pulling himself back to his full height and coming to stand almost toe-to-toe with Nick. "Ya can tell me where to work, and you can tell me when to work, but I'll ride the horse I want to ride and I'll do the work in my own way. Now get your spurs out of me and back the hell off!" Nick had been taken aback by the flare of hostility in the man who had simply ignored his antagonism up until now. Sure they had came to blows several times when Heath had first come to the ranch, but under the disapproving eye of his family Nick had stopped trying to intimidate the younger man with his fists. It hadn't worked anyway. The boy was fast, whipcord tough, and seemed to enjoy a good fistfight as much as Nick did.

He had let the boy ride the mare with no further argument, and had to admit that for all her size she put some of the other horses to shame, and worked the brush better than a larger horse would have. He had been amazed at the amount of cows the younger man had chased from the brush. He couldn't argue with the man's abilities. He looked around the area, seeing that most of the men had moved back to simply keeping the herd in place, knowing no doubt that Nick would soon be calling a halt to the day's work. Heath looked to be the last of the hands out still collecting. Couldn't argue with his work ethic either, damn the boy. He could at least try to be a slacker or inept. Make it easy for Nick to hate…. He stopped his train of thought. He didn't like to think of himself as an unreasonable man, but he just couldn't bring himself to like the boy, or accept his position as a member of the Barkley family

Shaking off the thoughts that occupied him too often he took off his hat and waved it in the air, turning in the saddle to wave it in every direction, making sure everyone could see. It was the signal that he had told the men to watch for when it was time to quit. The men started gathering together, leaving only two men who had just come out from the ranch to hold the herd. The grass was still green. And the cattle should be content to stay there as long as there was no disturbance. The men would be relieved later, and another pair would finish the night. Tomorrow they would move them up into the higher pasture. That should take most of the day, but they would be finally done, and just in time, at least as far as Nick was concerned. He had received a telegram yesterday saying that Maria and her father would be here the day after tomorrow, to see their rancho for the first time and to meet the rest of the Barkleys. Three months from now he and Maria would walk down the aisle and be man and wife. He couldn't wait.

All of the men were together now, including his brother who was bringing up the rear, so he turned his horse toward the ranch and started out. He was looking forward to a bath and a drink before dinner. He knew that his mother and sister were deep in preparation for the dinner party that they would be having to welcome Maria and her father, Don Garcia, and that he would have to listen to Audra prattle on about some fool thing or the other like napkin rings or some such thing. As if he cared about that. However he was prepared to indulge his mother and sister as much as necessary to get the whole thing over with.

They rode through the still lush valley, strung out in groups of two and three, talking about those things that men talk about when they had been working for long hours in the sun. Cold beer, women, poker, and what they would do about all of the above when they got paid. A quick glance toward the back of the pack showed Nick that Duke had dropped back and was talking to Heath. The old hand was smiling and shaking his head. Nick found himself almost shocked to see a smile on the face of the blond man as well. He had yet to see more than a half smile, a mere twitch of one side of the mouth. As he watched, Duke pointed off toward the south where the ranch stood, across the fields and the Stockton River that ran trough the pasture. The group was following the road toward the only bridge for miles, after which they would cut across the pastures to the ranch. As Nick continued to watch he saw Heath say something to Duke, who frown and shook his head. One of the men riding nearby leaned over and said something at which Duke threw up a hand and pointed a finger at the man. Both the hand and Heath laughed, and again Nick felt that surprise. He had never heard the man laugh he realized. It didn't seem right somehow. Heath had been on the ranch for some time now, and he had never heard him laugh or seen him smile. Of course why should he care, he asked himself. It wasn't as if he liked the man. He looked away from the group and looked around at the rolling hills, telling himself it was all stupid. But, he soon found his eyes drawn back to the back of the group. He was just in time to see Duke reach out a hand and shake Heath's outstretched one. Almost as soon as the shake was over the young blond cowboy reined his horse around and nudged her into a lope across the field. In a matter of strides the small horse was at a gallop, the blond cowboy stretched out along her neck, his weight balanced in the saddle. Even Nick had to hand it to this newcomer. The boy was a mighty fine rider, and together he and the horse made quite a picture as they moved. Duke had ridden forward and now rode at Nick's side, watching the younger man ride.

"Man, if I coulda rode like him at that age……" Duke mourned. He looked back at Nick, and saw the puzzlement in his eyes. "We got us a bet. I said that little horse of his had to be plumb tuckered out after working the breaks all day. He begged to differ. Said she could out run the whole lot of us and still be ready for another day's work. Dale" Duke cast a dark look back at the hand who had spoken to them earlier, "Suggested that maybe he should go overland and see if he could beat us back with enough time to curry and feed the horse before we got there." Duke shook his head at the cockiness of youth. "I bet him a pitcher of beer that he couldn't do it." He turned his eyes back to the rapidly disappearing form and shook his head. "Then again, we don't get a move on, I think he might just be able to do it. I got a feeling there ain't too many things that man can't do if he puts his mind to it. Kinda reminds me of his father that way." With that final poke at Nick's continued stubbornness he nudged his horse forward into a lope. The others, taking their cue from the foreman did the same, and Nick found himself having to spur Coco to keep up. He cast a last look to the south and watched as the horse and rider disappeared in the rolling of the land. This might just be interesting.

**Chapter 2**

The group of men rode into the ranch yard thirty minutes later and dismounted. Ciego, the man who had been in charge of the barns for several years came forward to stand near Nick in case he was wanted to take care of the boss's horse. It didn't happen often, usually Nick did the same work his hands did, but occasionally there was something that had to be taken care of and Ciego would unsaddle and curry the horse for him. Tonight Nick shook his head at the Mexican and started leading Coco into the barn, followed by the rest of the men. He had hardly entered the barn when he came to a stop. Heath sat there on a bale of hay, one strand dangling from his mouth as he watched the men push up around the boss to see what was going on. Nick heard a whoop from outside as the men in front called back the sight to those in the rear. It sounded like Dale. Nick looked from his…from Heath to the stall where the mare was situated. Her dark coat was glossy black, and gleamed like a raven's wing. She looked up from the pile of oats she was munching on as if to enquire about the hubbub, then turned back to her treat. Finally Nick started forward again, and took Coco into his stall. As he unsaddled he watched Duke lead his horse into a stall, and then go to Heath, shaking his head as he went.

Damn boy, couldn't you at least be breathing hard?" he asked the younger man, and got another genuine smile from him. Heath rose to his feet and took Duke's outstretched hand. They shook.

"I'll try to fake it for you next time, Duke. Don't want to be making my elders feel bad now." Heath said. "I'll be looking forward to that beer come Saturday." He said referring to the bet. With a quick glance at Nick he started out the door toward the house. Nick suspected that he was going to get the tub last tonight, but he couldn't exactly drop what he was doing and charge in to claim it. He wasn't really sure what that was all about anyway. He had started demanding first dibs on the tub as a way of pointing out the status of the new man in the house, but it had become something else, a type of pitiful and petty way of maintaining a dominance that wasn't truly his.

As he brushed at Coco's coat he had a sudden thought. Heath had said something about getting that beer Duke owed him on Saturday. That was two days from now, the day of the dinner party for Maria and her father. Nick's mind went through the possibilities in that statement. It was possible that no one had bothered to tell Heath what was going on, and he simply didn't realize that there was a dinner party going on that night. The second possibility was that he knew what was going on, but assumed that he wasn't invited, and had made other plans. The third possibility was that he knew what was going on but didn't WANT to attend and so had made other plans. As Nick thought about it, he could not recall mentioning the reason for the dinner party in Heath's hearing. He knew that the young man was outside the house as much or more than he was, and there was the possibility that no one else had mentioned it either. Thinking back, he couldn't remember any occasions in the last several months that had resulted in any type of party being held in the house. Heath might just be unaware of the reason for the preparations that were underway. Nick knew that Heath had to have heard Audra's endless talking about the arrangements, but now that Nick thought about it, her talk had always been about something specific, and not generalities, like when and where the party was to take place. She had simply assumed that everyone knew what was going on.

Of course that brought Nick to the second possibility. That Heath knew what was going on, but assumed that he wasn't invited. This was just as likely Nick realized. It wasn't as if they were friendly. If you had to describe what relationship they did have, Nick thought it could best be described as tolerant. They had moved on from the outright hostility of the first month, to a sort of armed stand off. Two equally matched camps just waiting to attack at the first sigh of weakness or aggression. Nick was willing to admit to himself that the boy WAS a match for him when it came to stubborn, maybe even a little more. And Lord knew the boy could hit. He knew just how and when to punch to make his blows count. He had given as good as he got. If Heath did indeed know about the dinner party, Nick knew that he had given this….brother….no reason to believe he was welcome at a party of this sort. And if no one else had asked him, Nick could easily see the other man choosing to spend his time in a more comfortable and at least on Nick's part, more friendly, atmosphere like the saloon as an alternative to being stuck in his room the whole time.

As he pondered the third possibility he felt his anger, always close to the surface when it came to Heath, starting to rise. What if the boy knew about the party, and just didn't want to come? What if he couldn't care less that Nick was getting married? Didn't want to meet the bride to be and her father? Had disdained the whole thing and decided to spend time with the hands in town, drinking and playing poker instead of supporting the family that had taken him in. Instead of welcoming the woman who would have more right than the to the name Barkley then he did, didn't want to wish his brother well…..Nick suddenly stopped the train of thought, and froze in mid brush, his mind whirling.

He was actually hurt at the idea that Heath might not want to wish him well! He actually seemed to care what the younger man thought about him, what he thought about his future bride. He was angry at the idea that Heath might turn his nose up at the idea of a family dinner party for his bride to be and her father. One would think that he actually WANTED the boy at the party! He suddenly realized that he had come to a full stop and hastily completed the job of currying Coco and gave him some feed. He started out of the barn, and found himself looking again at the small black mare, now standing hip-shot in her stall, in that odd equine form of sleep. He shook his head. Even Coco was tired after a day like today, and he hadn't been working the broken lands. He felt an unexpected surge of respect for the little horse and her rider.

He headed toward the house and the bathtub that he longed for. It had been a hot, dusty day, and it would feel good to get all of it off and get that drink. He knew Heath would be done with his bath by now and would have retreated to his room as he did most nights before dinner. Despite urgings from Audra, Jarrod, and their mother, Heath usually did not join them in the study for a drink before dinner, and none of the family had yet forced the issue, though Nick knew his mother was getting to the point where she might. He had seen her unease, the constant glances she had thrown at the doorway as if expecting to see him there. She WANTED him there, and Nick had spent his adult life making sure his mother had what she wanted. The fact it was something he had been sure he DIDN'T want until just the last few minutes was another thing all together.

He entered the mansion and dropped his hat on the table. He didn't give his usual bellow since he knew that his mother and Audra were not yet back from their weekly visit to the mission, Ciego having mentioned it in the barn. They would be here any time, and Nick wanted to be finished with his bath by the time they returned. He went upstairs, and noted the closed door to the small room at the head of the stairs. He frowned as he suddenly realized something else he had not considered before. The room that had become Heath's was the smallest in the house. It had been at one time a playroom of sorts for the Barkley children, a place where they could play with their toys. As the children had grown and matured past the need for a separate room for play, it had become a sort of guest room, though only used when the other larger rooms were full. Now it had become Heath's. Nick wasn't quite sure why the younger man had chosen that particular room, when he knew his mother had offered Heath the choice of any unoccupied room. Suddenly another mystery to add to the enigma that was his……He just couldn't do it, he just couldn't think it.

He went in his own room to get some clean clothes and then went into the bathroom. He started the water running, noting that there seemed to be plenty of hot water coming from the spigot, and feeling an unexpected sense of shame at the times he had run the system out of hot water leaving Heath to take a cold or at best lukewarm bath. With a silent curse he threw his towel across the small room, getting no satisfaction from its soft collision with the wall. What had brought on this sudden attack of realization and self-doubt? It wasn't him, wasn't Nick Barkley. He was nothing if not self assured and set in his course. He turned off the water and climbed in the tub, wincing at the heat of the water as he stepped into the steaming pool. He settled down and leaned back against the porcelain side, closing his eyes, and trying to figure out why the man he wanted gone from this ranch was taking up so much of his thoughts all of a sudden. He sank down until only his head was above the water, and tried to let the thoughts fade away, determined to enjoy his bath.

**Chapter 3**

Jarrod Barkley poured some sherry into a small glass, and a larger amount of scotch in another, then turned and handed the small glass to his mother who was seated on the Settee next to Audra. Jarrod slid into the large leather chair that faced the two ladies and sipped at his drink. It had been a long day. Actually it had been a long couple of months. Aside from the family stress of Heath's arrival, he had been under a lot of stress on the job. It seemed he finished one case only to have another more urgent one come along. When word had gotten around about his family's support of the underdog in the fight against the railroad, he had become the focus of many such victim's pleas. It had kept him very busy.

This was in fact one of the first weekends he would be able to spend at home in several weeks. His mother had made it clear that she expected him to be home for the upcoming dinner party. She was already down one son because of Eugene being at school and in the middle of testing, and she was not going to greet her future daughter-in –law and her father without as much of her family about her as possible. Jarrod could not say that he wasn't ready for the break. While his focus might be on the law, and his practice took him to Stockton, San Francisco, and beyond, this was where he felt best. This was home, and a big part of that feeling was imbued in the two women sitting across from him.

His younger sister Audra, an angel with golden hair and blue eyes, she seemed to get prettier every time he returned. That her heart was as beautiful as her face no one who knew her would argue. She spent a good portion of her time helping those who were less fortunate, be it the children at the orphanage or anyone needing a helping hand. The local animals benefited as well, as she would take in any cat, dog, or other lost creature. Her innocence and spirit were a refreshing change from the people he was forced to deal with in the course of his job.

Then there was his mother. Victoria Barkley was a force to be reckoned with. As beautiful in her own way as her daughter, the woman radiated graciousness and a type of power. She ruled the house with an iron fist in a velvet glove and things went smoothly or she knew the reason why. She had been the defining force in his life he had come to realize, as he had gotten older. As with most boys he had thought himself a reflection of his father growing up. But as he had grown in his profession, he realized it was his mother who had given him the most precious gifts. His father had been raw power, like a rushing river, and while that power had its place, that place was not in the courtroom. There you needed subtly and wisdom, and those were gifts that Victoria Barkley had in plenty. Jarrod's contemplation of the women in his life was interrupted by the advent of his younger brother Nick.

If Jarrod had been blessed with the gifts of his mother, Nick had benefited from those of their father. Here was that same forcefulness, the unbridled will and courage to act as needed. Where Jarrod had found his place in the courtroom, Nick had found his on the ranch. The open spaces were suited to his personality, and he loved the land. Four years younger than Jarrod, Nick was often in the position of making decisions that his father would have made if he had been alive, and he did it well. While the ranch business was in theory run by all the Barkley's with large decisions being made by vote, the day to day running of the massive ranch had fallen on Nick able shoulders. Jarrod suspected there were things that the family never heard about that Nick took care of regardless of the personal stress. The fact that his brother was now taking a wife, seeing to his own needs, made Jarrod happy.

As he watched Nick walk to the Tantalus for a drink, his eye fell on the large picture of Thomas Barkley over the fireplace. It was a good likeness of the man, done only a matter of months before he was killed. It had been both a comfort and the source of a gnawing ache for those left behind. As he contemplated the picture his mind was drawn to the newest member of their family, the one that their mother said resembled a young Thomas Barkley the most. Heath.

If Jarrod regretted anything about his current workload it was perhaps that he had not had a chance to get to know this newest brother of his. The few times he had been home he had been working on cases and other than brief meetings at meals, he had seen little of Heath. Audra and his mother had written to him faithfully letting him know the day to day happenings of the ranch, and their letters had been increasingly filled with reports of Heath and how he and Nick were getting on, or as was the case, how they were not getting on. Victoria Barkley had written that while she felt that Nick had come to respect Heath's skills at ranching, something unavoidable after the success of the cattle drive south, he still was not willing to treat him like a brother. They worked together, lived in the same house, and ate at the same table, but they might as well have been on different ranches. That is except for the fact that Nick seemed to take every opportunity to remind Heath just who was in charge. Jarrod hoped that Nick's actions could be put down to a jealous guarding of the family by its self-appointed sentinel, and not to actual hate. He knew that his mother worried about the same thing.

For his part, Jarrod could see nothing to hate about Heath. The young man was a testament to the triumph of the spirit over the physical. Not that his brother was in anyway disabled. In fact if there was anyone who was an equal to Nick in the physical department, it was Heath, just as he was Nick's equal in ranching skill. What stood out about the young man was that in spite of a childhood of abject poverty, an adolescence of want and privation beyond what any human should be subjected, he had turned out to be a genuinely likable and kind man. Audra's letters, in contrast to their mother's were filled with stories of Heath helping her with her rescued animals, doing repairs at the orphanage, taking his own time after working all day on the ranch to help out a neighbor with a broken leg. She had quickly taken to their new brother, perhaps because of their shared coloring, and had found a heart as soft as her own beneath the tough exterior. They had become firm friends, and Jarrod wished he could say the same for himself. Perhaps during this weekend he would get a chance to spend some time with Heath.

Jarrod's reflections were shattered as Nick threw himself into the other chair facing the ladies. As he looked over at his brother Jarrod realized that that someone was missing, Heath. The few nights that he had been here for the last months Heath had not joined them for the predinner drink. He had thought that by now his newest brother would have conformed to the family tradition. But seeing that the others were not looking toward the doorway in expectation, he suspected that had not taken place. He studied Nick's brooding face. He suddenly suspected why. He looked at his mother.

"It seems we are missing a brother, should I go up and urge him to join us?" He inquired of her. He saw a spark of pleasure in her hazel eyes at the question. Evidently she had been contemplating the same thing, but had not yet taken the initiative. That she had not indicated to him just how uncomfortable the relationship between Heath and Nick had been for his mother. She had said in her letters that she liked the young man, and he had read between the lines to believe that it was becoming more than that. She had spoken in the letters of early morning talks and rides with the young man to simply watch the sunrise. He took such pleasure in it, and she took pleasure in his pleasure. Victoria Barkley loved her children above all else, and he believed that she was starting to count Heath Barkley as one of her own. Without waiting for a verbal answer he started to rise then stopped as Nick slapped a hand against the arm of the chair. The other Barkley's all looked at him.

Usually to know Nick was to know how he felt at any given time. He did not hide his emotions. When he was happy everyone knew it, and so it was with his anger. But now, looking at his brother Jarrod could not quite make out what was going on with him. There were certain signs that he was angry, and others that he was ashamed of something, and then there was a certain something else, beneath the other two, almost sorrow. But what could bring such a mix of emotions to his brother on the eve of introducing his bride to be to his family? Luckily, knowing Nick they would not have to wait long for an explanation, He raised and inquiring eyebrow.

"Before you go and try to pry him out of that room, I need to know something." Nick finally ground out. He stood and drank his drink in one gulp, slamming the now empty glass on a nearby table with no regard for wither the finish of the table or the fragility of the glass. He began pacing back and forth in front of the empty fireplace. Jarrod could see that he was struggling with something. Nick didn't have the facility with words that Jarrod had inherited form their mother, and sometimes he wasn't as assured as he could be when it came to expressing his deepest feelings, and Jarrod had no doubt these feeling were deep. The lawyer looked over at his mother who was watching Nick pace, with a puzzled light in her eyes. As if feeling Jarrod's gaze she turned to look at him for a moment before returning her attention to her second son.

Finally Nick seemed to find the words he wanted, or he simply could not hold it in anymore, and he did the best he could with what he had. "I need to know if any of you have mentioned the dinner party to Heath?" he asked. Jarrod blinked in surprise. This wasn't anything like what he expected giving the agitation of his younger brother.

"Of course we've mentioned it to Heath!" Audra replied quickly, hearing only the question as asked. "We've been talking about it for weeks." It wasn't the answer that Nick wanted because he frowned. He looked at first Victoria then Jarrod.

"I don't mean all the stuff about what color table cloth to use and what dress you had to order to go with it," He snapped finally. "I mean did you talk to him about it?"

"Nicholas!" Victoria said in a voice that they all recognized from their childhood, she wasn't pleased. "You will not take that tone with your sister. She answered your question as you asked it. Perhaps you could clarify what you want, then we could give you an answer that is more to your liking." Nick scowled and growled an apology to Audra who nodded, puzzled about the undercurrents she didn't understand. Nick had kept up his pacing but now came to a standstill in directly in front of the fireplace and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What I want to know is have any of you told Heath what the dinner party is for, and when it is?" he finally came to the point.

Victoria tilted her head in that way she had when considering a question. He wished that his clients would be so careful when answering questions. "As your sister has said we have discussed the preparations in his presence on several occasions, however I do not recall speaking to him about the reason or the timing. I cannot answer for your sister of course." She answered calmly.

Audra, still looking puzzled, shook her head. 'I don't think I mentioned it…exactly." She said. "But he must know what we are talking about. He never asked anything, so he must know. Mustn't he?" she finally asked her mother, who had a spark of understanding in her eyes, that Jarrod was sure was in his. There was the possibility that no one had mentioned to Heath exactly what was going on or when. It was incredibly inconsiderate of them all if it had indeed happened. Jarrod was not prepared to excuse himself from the guilt as he had known about the party almost since it's inception because of his mother's letters, a source his younger brother did not have.

Victoria rose to her feet and went to stand in front of Nick, looking up at his face. "Did you tell him Nick?" she asked. He shook his head. She looked at Jarrod who, seeing the question in her eyes, also shook his head. She was about to speak again when a soft voice from the doorway interrupted. They all turned to see the speaker.

'If you'll excuse me Mrs. Barkley. But I done told Mr. Heath about when the dinner party was and what it was for. He asked me about it a couple of weeks ago." It was Silas, the black houseman, who had cooked and cleaned for the family for many years. Jarrod, who had looked back at Nick after the first bit of what Silas said was perhaps the only one that saw the flare of anger again in his brother's hazel eyes. It was gone in an instant, but it had been there. Jarrod felt a heavy weight form in his stomach. He could only pray that the idea forming in his head was just that, and not fact. Surely Nick would not take his dislike so far? He had to know, and he had to know now.

"Nick, did you plan on excluding Heath from the dinner party?" He asked. "Is that what this is all about?" he marched up to stand next to their mother who had also turned back to Nick. Jarrod saw the flush of color in Nick's cheeks and felt his own anger start to rise, but his mother was there before him,

"Nicholas. I would like to hear the answer to that myself." She said, with a flush in her cheeks. It reminded Jarrod that the Barkley temper hadn't all come from Tom Barkley.

Nick threw up his hands in exasperation. "I haven't got that far. I just now found out that he knew about it." He pointed a finger upward in the direction of Heath's room. "But I can tell you this HE isn't planning on attending. He as much said so not thirty minutes ago in the yard." He growled. Victoria placed her hands on her hips and shook her head at Nick.

"That's not the current question, Nicholas. Did you plan to exclude your brother from the dinner party?" she was not going to be sidetracked from what she obviously felt was the main issue.

'Well that's just the thing isn't it?" He asked "Maybe if he doesn't want to be there, then I don't want him there." He added defiantly. Jarrod shook his head.

"You didn't answer the question Nick." He said. "What Heath wants to do is another issue. Right now the question is: Did YOU plan to exclude him from the party?"

"No! I didn't plan anything, unlike him. It seems he has better things to do in town. I didn't even think about it until he said something about going into town on Saturday night." Nick snapped back.

Victoria Barkley nodded her head, satisfied with Nick's answer. She turned to Jarrod. "Please go upstairs and get your brother. This will be settled now." She turned back to the settee, her satin skirt swirling around her. She settled down with her usual straight posture and patted the confused Audra on the leg. She picked up her glass and sipped at the sherry. Only the very faintest of tremor disturbed the liquid in the glass as she raised it.

**Chapter 4**

Jarrod went up the stairs and paused outside the closed door to the room where his newest brother was. Heath had told him in one of the few moments that they had spent together in the last several months that he liked the small room because it was closer to what he was used to than the larger more grandly furnished rooms. It had hurt Jarrod to know that a brother of his had grown up in such abject poverty as they now knew Heath had endured, and he had was glad that Heath would accept what comforts he did. He raised a hand now to knock. There was a delay then a voice from inside bade him enter, which he did. He found Heath sitting on the side of the bed, wearing clean clothes and in stocking feet, a book in his hand, and a puzzled look in his eye as he saw who it was that entered the room.

"Jarrod, I wasn't expecting it to be you. Figured it was Silas coming to tell me dinner was ready a little early tonight," he said.

Jarrod smiled at him and walked further into the room. As he did so he realized that there were almost no signs of the room being occupied except for the impression of Heath's body on the bed and his boots at the side of it. There was a single picture, in a rough frame turned away from the door, and he could see a few pieces of clothing hanging in the closet. Other than that, it could have been an anonymous hotel room or unused guest room. He turned his attention back to Heath who was putting on his boots. Jarrod could not help but notice that they were battered and worn, though they were cleaned of dirt and dust. He also could not help compare them to his own boot or Nick's. While his own boots saw little work of the kind that had battered Heath's, Nick's had, but they were almost new and still shiny, the result of Silas' continuous care. He wondered why Heath had not gotten a new pair in the months he had been there. Shaking off the speculation he shook his head.

"Sorry, but dinner is still in the future. I have been sent up as an emissary. We would like you to join us in the parlor for a predinner drink." He said, not wanting to raise the question of the moment here. He found himself suddenly reluctant to continue the line of questioning. If Heath had been reluctant to join the family before this, he was sure that being put to the question would not make him any fonder of the occasion. He saw the hesitation in Heath's eyes, but finally he nodded and gestured for Jarrod to proceed him. They went down the stairs, and turned toward the parlor. As they entered Jarrod could see that Victoria was once again seated with Audra, but That Nick had refilled his glass and was leaning against the mantle. He looked at Heath.

"Can I get you a whiskey Brother Heath? I can vouch for the quality of the Scotch." He realized he didn't really know what his newest brother preferred. It was becoming quite the night for realizations it seemed.

Heath shook his head. "That stuff will clean the rust off a rifle barrel. I think I'll stick to the bourbon if you don't mind." Jarrod shook his head at this lack of taste and poured a bourbon then handed it to Heath. Heath slipped into the chair that Nick had been using. He looked over at the ladies and nodded to them both. "Ma'am, Audra. You sure are looking pretty tonight." He said with a small smile. Audra beamed back at him. Victoria gave him a small smile and lowered her glass to the small table in front of the settee.

"Heath, while we wish that you would join us on a regular basis, we asked you to do so tonight for a particular reason." She said. She had the attention of everyone in the room. Heath looked from her to the others in puzzlement, his eyes lingering for a moment longer on Nick. He said nothing as he turned his eyes back to Victoria, waiting for the question.

"Do you know that we are having a dinner party on this Saturday night, and the purpose of that party?" she asked. Jarrod could not but applaud her bluntness. Another woman might have worked her way up to it, but not for Victoria Barkley were such things.

The puzzlement didn't leave the blue eyes that studied her. He once again looked at the others then back at her. Then he spoke. "I reckon I did hear about it, bein' this Saturday and all, Silas done told me. If he wasn't supposed to be mentioning it then you best be blaming me since I asked him and all. It ain't in him to lie to a body that asks him outright."

Even Victoria Barkley seemed slightly taken aback at the young man's answer, blinking rapidly. She recovered quickly though. "Of course there is no reason that Silas should not have told you. The issue is not that you know about it, but if you intend to attend."

This time he was the one taken aback. He seemed genuinely surprised at the question, and he frowned. "That would be mighty presumptuous of me Ma'am, I wasn't invited." He said. "The only reason I asked Silas was so that I could be out of you all's way come the time. Didn't want to be walkin' in on anythin'." Jarrod could not doubt the sincerity of what his brother had just said. He truly believed that because he hadn't been specifically invited he wasn't wanted. He saw his mother close her eyes briefly and shake her head.

"Heath," he said, moving forward in his chair so that he could turn and look Heath in the eye. "This is a family dinner." He emphasized the word on purpose. "That means all members of the family are invited, and that very definitely includes you." As he finished speaking he saw Heath's eyes shift briefly to Nick, still standing over at the fireplace. They came back to Jarrod, and he knew what was coming even before the words were spoken.

"I don't think that necessarily follows counselor. I might be a member of the family as you say, but that don't mean I'm welcome." Heath said. Jarrod wondered if he was the only one that heard the unspoken part of the statement, the part about this not just being about the dinner party. He quickly got an answer to that when Nick stomped forward to stand in front of the younger man. Heath was almost instantly on his feet and meeting Nick head on.

"I never said that! I never said anything. If you don't want to come that's your business, don't put it on me!" Nick growled, poking a finger in Heath's chest. Heath knocked his hand away.

"I told you once not to touch me. I'll tell you just one more time. And you don't have to say something to get your message across loud and clear." Heath hissed back at him. Things looked like they were going to escalate and Jarrod was prepared to spring between his brothers when another voice cut through the tension.

"That is enough!" Victoria stood and stomped her foot. Her eyes blazed and color had filled her cheeks. The angry men both turned and looked at her. Once she had their attention she stalked over to stand between them. She should have looked ridiculous, a petite woman separating the two tall, powerful men, but she did not. "This has got to stop NOW. " She stalked away from them and started pacing in front of the fireplace in a manner not unlike Nick's when he was agitated.

She finally came to a stop and looked first at Heath. "YOU are expected to be at the dinner party on Saturday. If you have any questions regarding the proper dress please speak with one of your brothers, your sister or myself. Time is short, but we should be able to get you something appropriate. In the future you will join the family before dinner here in the parlor. You ARE part of this family, and being a part means participation, full participation. Is that understood?" Heath, for his part, did not seem intimidated as some men would be before the force of Victoria Barkley, but he nodded in agreement. Victoria then turned on Nick.

"YOU need to stop treating your brother like a stranger," She held up a hand as Nick started to protest. "Heath had been here over three months, and you work with him daily, if he is a stranger to you that is because you have chosen to leave it that way. You have made it more than clear to everyone your continued disapproval of our family decision regarding Heath's inclusion into this family. That is coming to an end. It is time to show some of the maturity that I have seen in the past several years since your father died. This is how it is going to be Nick. You need to come to terms with it, and with your brother. Do I make myself clear?"

Nick looked from her to the cold blue eyes of his new brother. He didn't see any encouragement in those eyes. If he had been reluctant to make any move to get to know Heath, he certainly had not received any help in that quarter from the boy. Heath had not tried to get to know him very well either, and HE wasn't getting a dressing down from Victoria about it. Didn't seem quite fair, but Nick knew pointing that out to his mother would not earn him any points.

"I understand what you are saying." He said. "And I'm doing the best that I can, dam…sorry mother. You can call him my brother; hell I'll call him my brother. That I can't change, but that doesn't mean I have to be friends with him. He gets no more and no less consideration than I give myself when it comes to the work on the ranch. You can't ask more then that of me."

Victoria started to speak when Heath cut her off. "He's right. You can't make him like me. We get on like we get on and that's all there is to it. You should just leave it be. I'll do whatever you tell me to so that I fit in where I'm supposed to, but don't go forcing him on my account. Just leave it be."

Victoria stared at him for a moment, and saw something in his eyes that made her nod in acceptance. "Very well, but I will not tolerate a lack of courtesy, we owe each other that, as we owe it to everyone. Likes and dislikes aside." She looked to the side where Silas had once more appeared in the doorway. He nodded to her questioning look. She held out her hand to Heath. "Dinner is ready. Will you escort me in?" she asked him. He gave her a small smile and a bit of a bow as he held out his arm.

"I'd be honored Ma'am." He led her toward the dining room.

As they started out of the parlor Jarrod moved over and offered his arm to Audra who had been quiet through the whole thing. She looked at him with a hopeful smile, her thoughts easily seen in her eyes. She was anxious to know if the problem was solved, if those that she loved were going to continue to be at odds. He patted her hand as he tucked it around his arm.

He led her after their mother and brother.

Nick was left standing alone in the parlor. He wasn't sure exactly what had been settled this evening, other than the inclusion of Heath at the dinner party. He had publicly acknowledged that he knew Heath WAS his brother, but had made it clear that he was not prepared to step past that point, at least not right now. The strange thing was that it had been accepted by his family, and at the urging of Heath himself. He wasn't sure how to take that particular twist. Of course as he had observed, Heath hadn't exactly been putting himself forward to make nice with Nick, there was the possibility, one that had just come to him, that maybe Heath didn't like him very much either. It was a strangely unsettling idea. With a look around at the now empty parlor he went into dinner.

**Chapter 5**

Saturday afternoon the house was a bustle. Special cleaning women were putting the finishing touches on all of the rooms. The glass in the windows shown crystal clear. The floors were polished, as was the silver. Silas was directing a group of cooks and servers in the kitchens. Everything was in place. Victoria, looking over all the preparations was satisfied, and she started up the steps toward her room to begin dressing. Audra had retreated to her room almost a half-hour before, and she knew that Jarrod was already ready.

She was halfway up the stairs when she heard the front door open then slam closed. She turned, already knowing who would be there. Nick was at the side table taking off his gun belt and hat. He was covered in dust from head to foot, the white powder making his clothes look Gray. She shook her head.

"Nick, Please step outside and dust yourself off. The ladies have done a very nice job cleaning everything and they do not need your dirt tracked in. If your brother is as dirty as you are, please have him do so as well. I assume he is coming in soon." She left the last as a statement and not a question. She noticed that Nick's shoulders seemed to tense. If he had been looking at her he would have noticed a narrowing of her eyes. Instead he turned toward her with a smile.

"I'll go outside right now, mother. Then I'll be in the bathtub. Shouldn't be any problem with the dust." He started for the door, only to be stopped by his mother's voice.

"Nicholas." She said in that tone that was guaranteed to stop her children in their tracks. It was effective now. "Where is your brother?" He turned to face her, and just as she had when he was a boy she could read the thoughts on his face. He briefly contemplated answering something like 'in Berkley' or 'in the study, probably', but discarded the idea when he looked in her eyes. He sighed.

"He's still out on the East side, they had some problems with one of the pumps and he was taking care of it. I know he sent someone back for some pipe about three hours ago, but other than that…."

Victoria came back down the stairs until she was on a level with her tall son, and looked him in the eye. "And when did you decide that Heath would be the one to handle this job? When exactly did you learn that the pump was out?" she questioned. She didn't like to suspect that Nick would do something so petty as to send his brother on an overly long job on the day of the party, but then she had not wanted to believe that her husband had sired a son with another woman. She saw the indignation flare in Nick's eyes.

"Well thank you for that vote of confidence, Mother. To answer the question you didn't ask, NO, I did not send Heath out on a job I knew was going to take him a long time. We heard bout the pump this morning, and he volunteered to take care to it. I sent along three men to make sure there were plenty of hands on it. If he isn't here, then it's not MY fault." He said. He started to turn around and head out the door when his mother's voice stopped him again.

"I'm sorry. I know you are trying, and I should have not made assumptions. I apologize." She said. He nodded and kept going out the door. She sighed and turned to go up to her room. This wasn't getting any easier, and knowing her son, she suspected that that wasn't going to change any time soon.

Nick stomped out to the end of the porch and slapped his gloved hand against his clothes until a fine cloud of dust rose from him and drifted off in the faint breeze. As he dusted himself off, he thought about what had just happened. If he was honest with himself he would admit that the thought had crossed his mind that morning when he had watched Heath and the others ride off that it might just turn into an long job. "Of course that didn't mean that it didn't need to be taken care of.", his mind reminded him, looking for absolution.

"Oh but it could have been taken care of by any number of the men, Heath should have been working around the ranch like you were." Came the little voice of conscience. "You just hoped he'd be late and not show up at all."

"That ain't true." He muttered to himself, and heard a chuckle behind him. He turned to see his older brother standing there in exceptional sartorial splendor, smoking a cigar and smiling.

"Talking to yourself now Brother Nick? I understand that incipient marriage can addle the wits of a man, but I had thought the happy day too far off to have you talking to yourself already."

"Ha Ha, Jarrod. You're a regular riot tonight. I see you're all ready to go. It must be nice to be a gentleman of leisure."

"Touché, Brother Nick." Jarrod said puffing on his cigar. He studied his younger brother. He had heard their mother questioning Nick about Heath. He had also seen the _expression on Nick's face a moment ago. For the last two days he had closely watched his two younger brothers, unobtrusively. He had gone along yesterday on the drive up to the high meadows. It had felt good to be outside on his horse, breathing the fresh air. He had watched as his two brothers worked together, moving the cattle with expert planning and with crews all placed where they were needed. The problem as he saw it, was that they didn't seem to realize how well they worked together.

Nick was of course in overall charge, he could be nothing less on this ranch, but Jarrod saw how Heath moved to cover those things that Nick just couldn't do, to fill in for him when he just couldn't be there, to think of the little things that Nick might have forgotten in planning the big ones. It was a seamless matching of effort to effort, and spoke to Jarrod of a partnership that could be the best thing that ever happened to the Barkley holdings, and these two men who meant so much to him. It was with some interest that he realized that Heath really didn't seem to grasp the depth of what was happening either. Perhaps he was only being the efficient cowboy that he had proven himself to be, or maybe he was working harder because he realized that the ranch's success was his success. But Jarrod suspected that there was something more.

He noticed that when the two were not actively fighting that Heath seemed to be studying his older brother, watching what he did, and maneuvering himself to do what was needed. It was as if Heath was trying to impress his older brother, but not in a pushy grandstanding sort of way. Heath's way seemed to be through doing the best job possible in the shortest amount of time. It seemed to Jarrod that Heath almost desperately wanted to have Nick's appreciation and approbation, but being the man he was, he was going to earn it on his own merits and without being a boot- licker. With anyone else it would have worked by now, but then Nick was more stubborn than almost anyone Jarrod knew. Of course, the fact that Heath was still trying, even if subconsciously, to make headway with his brother, probably indicated that he too had a good portion of the Barkley stubbornness.

Jarrod wished he could go to Nick and point out what he had seen, what he believed, but he knew that in Nick's current mood it would be counterproductive. He had a pretty good idea that any suggestion that Heath might be a good partner, and would be happy to be considered so, would not be welcome. However, Jarrod could not help but wonder how long Heath would keep taking the rebuffs. Even the most patient of men could only take so much.

He had also been impressed with this newest brother's skill with horse and rope. He had heard from Audra, Eugene, and even, grudgingly, Nick, the tales of Heath's prowess with horses. Watching him on the small black mare, working first the side, then the drag, and then back again, was a treat for Jarrod. Even though he might be more of the city now than of the range, he could still appreciate the beauty of a horse and rider so obviously in tune with one another.

His younger brother handled a rope with the casual ease of a man well acquainted with all its uses, and he noticed that he was using the longer braided rawhide rope that the Mexican wranglers used instead of the shorter hemp ropes that the American cowboys favored. He knew that such ropes required careful tending to remain pliable and obviously from the way that Heath used his, he had tended his well. Another sign of Heath's prowess and skill.

Now standing on the porch watching as his brother finished brushing the last of the dust off his clothing he decided to give Nick the benefit of the doubt. He would not believe that his brother would have intentionally sent Heath out on a job that was likely to keep him away from the party. He had seen no sign of such pettiness in Nick before, and he would not assume it now with any evidence to the contrary. He stepped forward and put a hand on Nick's shoulder as he started back to the house.

"I'm anxious to meet your lady, Brother Nick. If she was willing to marry you after having known you such a short time then I can tell she is an adventurous woman not unlike our mother. I am sure that you and she will be very happy."

"Thanks Jarrod." Nick said, glad that his brother had not pursued the questions their mother had been asking. He wasn't really sure what his answers would have been. He was happier talking about his intended. "I think you will all like her. She's beautiful, that's the first thing you notice about her. Her hair is like a raven's wing and her eyes are a deep brown. After that you notice the spirit in her. She's a great horsewoman, been trained since she was a little girl. Rides the sidesaddle, but she'll pick up the astride style real quick. I watched her sit out a pretty good bucking in one of those funny sidesaddle contraptions though, and I gotta hand it to her, she didn't budge."

"She's been to all the fancy boarding schools and a finishing school, whatever that means. She talks as well as you do and can quote all the books like you. You two will have some fine talks I'm sure. She's been all over the place, Spain, Mexico, Switzerland, England, New York, and Chicago. I think she'll fit in just fine."

The two men went in the house and up the stairs, Jarrod following Nick into his room as he started getting things ready for after his bath. Silas had already laid out his suit and put out Nick's best boots, polished to a high shine. Not for Nick the citified shoes, even for an occasion like this. As Nick was digging in his bureau for something he kept talking.

"I figure it works out pretty good with Mother insisting that I take her and father's room. This will be perfect for me and Maria," he looked around at the decidedly masculine decor and shrugged. "I guess she'll want to decorate a little, but I can stand it. Anyway she and Audra can get together and match the drapes to the bedspread or something. That's another thing that I think will work out well. She and Audra and Mother should get along well. I'm sure the way our sister bats her eyes at every unattached male in this valley it won't be too long until she's married and it'll be just Mother and Maria. Maria can take over some of the running of the place and Mother can relax a little. Enjoy the grandkids." He poked a suggestive elbow in Jarrod's ribs and shared a laugh with his brother. He looked at the clock on the mantle. "I gotta get in the tub, mother will have my hide." He left, with Jarrod straggling behind.

As Nick disappeared into the bathroom, Jarrod started toward the stairs only to almost get run down by a muddy Heath springing up the stairs three at a time. As they grabbed each other's arms to avoid falling in an undignified heap. Heath looked Jarrod up and down. He let out a low whistle.

"Boy howdy, Jarrod. You sure do set the bar mighty high for us less splendid fellas. How are we supposed to match up to that? You'll be shining more than the ladies do." He flicked a finger at the small diamond pin in Jarrod's ascot. "I seen riverboat gamblers that don't dude up this well." He finished. Jarrod could see a twinkle hiding in the depths of the blue eyes.

"Well Brother Heath," He said in a serious tone, "As the eldest brother I feel that I need to set some standards for you younger men. Of course while no one expects you to meet such high levels, it does give you something to shoot for."

Heath laughed and shook his head. "Ain't never goin to get that fancy counselor. You better be putting your money on Nick." He said and glanced at the closed door of the bathroom. "Reckon he's already in there?" he asked. At Jarrod's nod he shrugged. "Natural order of things. Guess I'll get my things together for when he's done. I'll just have to be quick about it. Reckon I can shave in my room. That'll save some time." He headed for his room. Jarrod, at loose ends, and finding himself wanting to spend time with this new brother followed. A small smile from his brother gave him welcome to the small room.

Jarrod could see that Silas had been here as well, but the differences were obvious. The suit that was laid out on the bed was new. The product of a late afternoon trip to Stockton the day before after the cattle had been moved. They had been lucky to not only find a shopkeeper willing to stay open, but also who had something appropriate in a size that fit. There had been some small alterations needed, but Audra had taken care of that herself last night. Jarrod remembered with a smile the gentle teasing that had gone on between Audra and Heath as she had pinned and measured the evening before, and was pleased that Heath had felt comfortable enough to tease him earlier.

As he watched Heath got his things ready for when he could use the bath, and then went to the bureau where a pitcher and bowl were. He knew that Silas always kept fresh clean water in the pitchers. He raised an eyebrow as Heath wet his face and then reached down and drew a knife from his boot top.

"You're kidding." He said as Heath raised the knife and began running the blade down the side of his face, using a small round mirror that was propped up near the bowl. He paused after the first swipe and looked at Jarrod with a smile.

"You ain't been on the trail in a long time have you counselor?" he asked.

Jarrod shook his head. "No, I haven't. But I have been on my share of cattle drives, and not even then would I have used a knife instead of a razor."

Heath turned back to the mirror and began again. He talked as he worked. "Don't make no difference if it's a razor or a knife iffn you take care of your knife the way you're supposed to. Ask any man that cares for his knives and he'll tell you they work fine. Don't need to carry the extra weight of a razor. Hell, I've known some mountain men that do this with a Bowie blade, now that's crazy. Things are like a bayonet."

Jarrod shook his head in amazement and sat in the one chair in the room watching as his brother deftly shaved with his knife. When he was finished Heath wetted his face again and dried it using the small towel Silas had left. He turned, running his hand over his cheek and chin.

"Smooth as a baby's bottom. Couldn't get better in no fancy shaving place for a nickel." He sniffed at his shirt. "Could use some of that bay rum they splash on ya, I reckon. If Nick don't get outta that bath, I'm gonna have to sit at the far end of the table."

"Patience Brother Heath. While you were shaving I believe I heard Nick letting out the water. He should be out soon. We promise not to banish you in any event." As he finished speaking they could hear Nick coming out of the bathroom and heading to his own room. Heath scooped up his clothes and headed out the door. He winked at Jarrod as he turned at the door.

"Gotta go see if I can primp myself up to your standards Jarrod. Don't want to reflect badly on your teachings and all." He gave a lopsided smile and disappeared down the hall.

Jarrod was left sitting in the chair, smiling at the empty doorway. It was there that his mother, having finished dressing, found him moments later as she passed the doorway. She stopped and raised a curious eyebrow at her oldest son. She was well aware that Jarrod would never have entered Heath's room without permission, and was also sure that Silas would have laid out Heath's clothes for him as he did with the older Barkley men. She did not see the clothing, so she assumed that Heath had returned and was in the bathroom.

Jarrod rose to his feet and went to take his mother's hand and bowed over it with a kiss. He stood back at arms length and took in the picture she made in the emerald green silk dress with its full skirt and drop sleeves. "Well Lovely Lady, that appellation has never been more true. You are a vision."

She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. "Thank you kind sir. You are looking fine as well. I assume that your brother has come in?" she asked. She started down the stairs.

"Yes, he's washing up. He should be ready on time. Are you looking forward to tonight?" He asked as he took her arm at the bottom of the stairs and led her toward the parlor. She nodded.

"Yes. I am very excited to be meeting the young woman who stole your brother's heart. Some mothers might be anxious, or even jealous of a new woman in her son's life. But I feel that anyone who would so quickly take your brother's attention must be an exceptional woman."

"I agree with you mother. This should be very interesting." He led her to the settee where she sat down and spread her skirts so they would not get wrinkled. Jarrod went and poured himself a scotch, and offered his mother a sherry, which she declined. Jarrod went to sit in one of the leather chairs.

They quietly discussed several business issues for the next few minutes before they heard a heavy tread coming down the stairs. Nick appeared in the doorway. He was wearing his best black suit and his shirt was almost blindingly white. His tie was tied exactly right, and Jarrod detected the expert hand of Silas. Nick strode to the Tantalus and poured himself a whiskey. He sat down in the other chair. Jarrod shot him a questioning look.

"Nerves Brother Nick?" he asked.

Nick snorted and tossed back his whiskey. "Of course I got nerves. There's a lot of difference in meeting a man over drinks to talk about buying and selling cattle, and sitting down over a meal to introduce him to your family."

"Are you concerned we won't measure up?" Jarrod asked, a smile on his face. Nick finished his drink and shook his head.

"No," he said firmly. "I'm just nervous is all. I want him to think I'm the right man for Maria, and this will be the first time he's seen me here, like I really am. Maybe I'm afraid I won't measure up." He added the last in a slightly lower voice, almost as an aside.

Victoria smiled at him. "You have nothing to be concerned about. If he approved of you before, he'll approve of you now. You are not a man who hides himself in the situation. You are as you are. It should be enough for any parent to know." He smiled at her. They all looked toward the doorway as movement there drew their attention.

With his characteristic quietness Heath had come down the stairs and now hovered in the doorway. He was wearing the brown suit that Jarrod had helped him pick out. His tie also showed the ministrations of Silas. While his boots were the same that he used daily, and were not fancy or shiny, they were clean. All in all he presented a fine picture, Victoria thought, pleased with the results of the efforts of the previous day.

The real surprise, given his sudden and quiet appearance was the presence of his sister on his arm. She was in a gown of apricot satin with lace at the décolletage and wrist. Her hair was beautifully styled. Together they made a striking pair, so similar as to leave no doubt as to their relation. They could have been twins if it hadn't been for the knowledge in Heath's eyes, knowledge that had been hard won in a life of privation and want. Jarrod rose to his feet and bowed toward the pair.

"It seems that you clean up well Brother Heath." He acknowledged his younger brother who gave him a small smile, and then turned his attention to their sister. "You, of course, look stunning young miss. I believe you chose wisely in that color, though I'm sure I needn't mention it." She bestowed a lovely smile on him, and looked around.

"We all look very nice. I think Nick's father-in-law to be will be impressed with us. I do so want to make a good impression on him and on Maria since this is the first they will see of us." She looked over her shoulder. "Should I go and check with Silas to make sure everything is ready, Mother?" she asked.

Victoria shook her head. "No, I don't think that will be necessary. Silas would have notified us if there was a problem. I believe we should get ready to greet our guests. I see by the time that they should be arriving."

The family moved to the foyer, and lined up in a sort of informal receiving line. Nick went to the door and looked out. He could indeed see a closed carriage approaching. It struck him that it was strange that they had not used an open carriage in the clear and pleasant night, but the thought was quickly banished. He stepped forward to open the door as the carriage came to a stop. He offered a hand to the portly woman dressed in black who was seated just inside the door. This was Lucia, a widowed cousin of the Garcia family, and a chaperon to Maria.

The next person to disembark was Maria. She was dressed in white, a lovely lace covered dress, with a white mantilla over her black, beautifully styled hair. Her heart shaped face was flushed with pleasure at seeing Nick, and her dark eyes sparkled at him as he helped her to the ground. He bent over her hand, his lips barely touching her skin. She smiled at him.

"It is so nice to see you Nick. Even though we have written it has been so long." She said in her pleasant contralto.

He smiled back at her. "It definitely has been too long. Now that you are here we'll be seeing each other all the time." He turned from her reluctantly to greet the man that emerged from the carriage. "Don Garcia, good to see you. I hope your trip was pleasant."

Don Hernando Garcia nodded. "It was at the least, swifter than traveling by road though I have had enough of the sea. Next time I will travel by horse instead of the coastal ship, but one must think of the ladies." He offered his hand, and Nick shook it firmly.

The man was in his middle sixties and widowed. He was slim and distinguished in a Spanish sort of way Nick supposed. Maria had been a late in life child, the only one Don Garcia and his wife had been able to have. He was a man of vast resources. He owned 3 ranches here in California, including the recently purchased one that shared a border with the Barkley land to the North and had a large rancho in Mexico. He ran over twenty five thousand head of cattle between the ranches, and he was always looking to expand his empire.

Nick waved toward the door to the mansion. "Please, come this way. I'll introduce you to my family and then we'll have a drink before dinner." He almost offered an arm to Maria when his manners kicked in. He offered it instead to the older woman and led the party into the foyer where his family waited.

He had to admit they made a nice picture. His mother and sister were beautiful as usual, and his brothers….he paused in his own thoughts as he realized he had just thought of Heath as his brother. It had really happened for the first time earlier when they had turned to find Heath and Audra in the doorway together. For some reason seeing the two blonds there together, all done up in their best clothes, he had realized how much alike they were. And it had clicked into place for him. This was his brother, a man with as much of Tom Barkley's blood in his veins as he had, as Jarrod or Audra had. It had been a startling realization. He was already nervous about introducing Maria to them, he really didn't need this right now. He had forced it to the back of his mind, determined to consider it later.

He led Mrs. Garcia to his mother, he realized he really wasn't sure of her whole name, and was glad when Don Garcia stepped forward as they stopped before Victoria. "Don Hernando Garcia, may I present my mother Victoria Barkley."

Victoria inclined her head and offered her hand to Don Garcia. He took it gently and bowed over it. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Your son spoke very highly of you, but he did not mention how beautiful you are."

She smiled, "Thank you Don Garcia. I am so happy to meet you. Nicholas had told us so much about you and your family. We have been anxious to make your acquaintance."

"Indeed. May I introduce you to my cousin, Lucia Garcia Tocodo. She had honored me by agreeing to act as my daughter's duenna, chaperon as you say." The two women exchanged nods. Then Don Garcia drew Maria forward. "And this is my daughter, Maria Patricia Lucinda Garcia Hernandez. Maria, Mrs. Barkley."

Maria gave a curtsey and smiled at the woman who was to be her mother in law. She could see that Victoria Barkley was everything that Nick had said of her. Refined, beautiful, powerful, in her own way. The gray eyes smiled at her, all the while looking her over critically. Mrs. Barkley turned and indicated a handsome dark haired man that stood at her side. His eyes were a beautiful dark blue.

"Permit me to introduce Nicholas' brothers and sister. Jarrod, Audra, and Heath." She indicated each as she spoke their name. Handshakes and nods were exchanged. She then suggested that they go into the parlor. They were soon seated, and Jarrod offered drinks. Don Garcia, and his cousin accepted a sherry, as did Victoria. Nick and Heath helped themselves to a whiskey. Don Garcia shook his head when Jarrod offered a sherry to Maria.

"My daughter does not drink. It would not be proper for a woman of her age and station." He said. Jarrod, who had been about to offer the same to Audra simply raised an eyebrow and looked at his sister, who shook her head slightly. She looked at Maria.

"Perhaps you would like a lemonade? Silas, our houseman, makes the most wonderful lemonade. It is very refreshing." Both Jarrod and Audra saw Maria look to her father who nodded, before she nodded herself.

"That sounds very nice. Thank you."

Once everyone was seated with a drink, the talk became general. They spoke about the Garcia's travels and the new ranch. About twenty minutes passed before Silas appeared in the doorway to announce that dinner was ready. The moved to the dining room, Victoria on Don Garcia's arm and Jarrod squiring Lucia. Nick offered his arm to Maria who accepted with a smile. This left Heath and Audra to bring up the rear. With the others on the way out of the room, Heath made an elaborate bow to the solemn Audra who broke into a wide grin and curtsied back at him. They swept regally after the others.

Dinner was perfect. Silas had outdone himself to present a series of perfectly cooked dishes. Everything from the soup to the dessert course was delightful. Heath had never seen so much food in one place at one time. He was already nervous about the new suit, and this formal dinner was not helping his nerves any. He desperately wanted to make sure that he didn't bring any attention to himself with bad manners or awkward habits. He watched what Jarrod did, and tried to do the same thing. He figured he was making a good show of fitting in, when Don Garcia spoke to him from his right. Don Garcia was sitting at the foot of the table, with Heath on his left and Audra on his right. Audra was currently speaking with Lucia who was seated on her right, so Garcia had turned to Heath.

"You work the ranch with your older brother Mr. Barkley?" He asked.

Heath nodded his head and cast a quick glance at Nick who was seated down the table on the other side of Maria who was at Heath's left. "Yes, sir. I do." He figured that the less said about much of anything the better. He just had to make sure he wasn't rude. He didn't think that Nick would appreciate that very much, and since his older brother had enough reason to hate him already, he didn't need to add anything to the fire.

"I know that you handle cattle, but do you also have horses?" Don Garcia asked.

"Yes we have several herds of mustang stock and some fine thoroughbred studs and mares. We're breeding some fine cutting and riding horses." Heath said, glad that the older man had started on a subject with which he was familiar and comfortable. They spoke for several minutes about horses, cattle, and the state of the grazing in the valley. Finally they were discussing the breeding programs that the Barkleys had.

"I too have several breeding programs. I do not raise the horses here in California, but on my ranch near Jalisco. I have purebred Arabian horses. They are amazing animals. Strength and beauty, and all passed on in the bloodline. It is a science, to create the result you want."

Heath considered that. "I've seen those Arabians, and they are mighty fine horses, right pretty and fast on a track, but I gotta tell you, I don't think that you can beat a mustang for sheer endurance and toughness. There ain't an Arabian that I ever saw that could stand up to a day of herding cattle in broken country, and that's what we are breeding for. Bloodlines are fine, but if you got a mustang with mixed blood and stamina, and an Arabian with pure blood and no stamina, I'm gonna take the mustang."

Don Garcia frowned. "I understand your point, but I do not feel that you can discard the value of a bloodline so easily. It is with horses, and even cattle, as it is with we men. We are what our ancestors made us. If the line is pure we are pure, we are correct. If the line is impure, that is when we get the criminals, the useless ones of society that add nothing, and only take."

Sitting across the table and several chairs down from Heath, Jarrod was chatting with Lucia when he happened to see his younger brother pale slightly. He had noticed that Heath and Don Garcia seemed to be discussing something, and was pleased that his younger brother seemed to be doing well despite his reservations about his manners. He wondered what the subject was that could have caused such a reaction.

Across the table Audra, a veteran of many dinner parties even at her age, also noticed and she turned her attention to what the two men were saying. She had just finished discussing the latest fashion on the continent with Lucia, and had not followed what they had been discussing.

Heath smiled faintly and nodded even though he felt like he had been kicked in the guts. He knew from the older man's manner that he didn't have any idea about the circumstances of his birth, and had meant nothing by it. However, Heath knew that continuing the conversation was not in anyone's best interest. He decided to change the subject. "You have a ranch near Jalisco." He said. "Is it anywhere near Talequilla?"

Don Garcia raised an eyebrow. "It is not, but I am familiar with the town. A close friend of mine has a rancho there, Don Alejandro Vega. Do you know him?"

Heath nodded. "I know of him, never met him though. I spent some time down that way a few years back." Heath thought it better not to mention that he hadn't exactly run in the same crowd as the local patron, and had been busy chasing mustangs in the nearby Sierra Madre Mountains with a band of men who could be considered by some as banditos or even revolutionaries.

Audra picked that moment to ask Don Garcia about his trip to Spain and Heath breathed a sigh of relief and cast his sister a grateful look. She gave him a slight smile and turned her attention to Don Garcia. Maria was speaking with Nick, and Silas had just served the dessert, so he knew that dinner should be over soon. He hoped he could figure out a way to slip off without anyone noticing, but he had a feeling that even the attempt would not be taken well by his family. It seemed they were real big on doing things just right.

The family returned to the parlor after dinner. Jarrod suggested that the men should retire to the study for a cigar and some brandy while the men talked. It was so agreed, and Heath found himself sitting in the study, a bandy and a cigar in his hand, and trying to make himself invisible. Jarrod had traveled in Europe and he and Don Garcia spoke about places that they had both seen. Heath stayed on the edge of the conversation, nodding at the right times, and clutching his brandy with a white knuckled grip. He really wasn't enjoying the aged liqueur or the expensive cigar.

After the cigars they joined the ladies once again. Heath watched as Nick spoke with Maria, and he could not help but wonder about his brother's choice in women. He wondered if Nick really understood exactly what he was getting himself into there. It wasn't that she wasn't pretty. In fact she was beautiful. He might have made a move himself if she hadn't been his brother's girl. But did Nick really know what it was like for a woman from a rich family of Mexico?

He had spent a lot of time in Mexico, and while he didn't move in the same circles, he had eyes and ears and he heard a lot and saw a lot. The women of the rich were watched at all times. They did not travel anywhere alone, even after they were married. They were very dominated by the head of the family, and were used in much the same way that breeding stock might be. They were married off to whatever other rich family there might be a financial or political reason to have a connection with. Heath could not help but wonder if this marriage, and Don Garcia's approval of it, was not something along the same lines.

He knew what was in it for Nick, he obviously had fallen for the young woman. Heath knew enough about his older brother to know that he didn't care if she was rich or not. But he could not say the same for her father. Heath suspected that the reason that Don Garcia had allowed the match so quickly was that he saw the advantages, both politically and financially of having a daughter married to a Barkley.

The money thing was easy to see. The Barkley's were one of the few families in California that were on the same level as Garcia. And Heath had a suspicion about the political benefit as well. He had heard that the old Spanish land grants were being challenged. That the Spanish families that had held vast acreage of land here for decades were being forced to give up their land. Heath knew Jarrod was a damn fine lawyer, and the papers throughout California had made much of his brother for his stand against the railroads in court, arguing for the landowners rights. He had no doubt that Don Garcia had seen the reports, and there was every possibility that the old fox had decided that having Jarrod Barkley on his side when it came time to defend those ranches that he held in Southern California might be a good idea, and might even be worth the loss of a daughter in marriage.

And Heath had seen enough in Mexico to understand that the girl would go along with it, despite what she might feel, because that was how it was done. The women understood that it was their duty to do what their fathers ordered them to do. Heath figured very few of the woman of Maria's class actually got to choose who they would marry. Marrying for love was not an option most of the time. He had heard that some of them even married men that they had never even met before the actual wedding.

It had all seemed kind of cold to Heath, though he wasn't about to criticize something he really didn't understand. He simply didn't like any system that took away the free will of another person. It was too much like being in prison, where the guards told you how to do everything from breathing to sleeping.

Of course he might be totally wrong. Old Don Garcia had been in America for quite some time despite his rancho in Mexico. He might have taken on some of the more relaxed manners of the people that surrounded him. Here women were not so much a commodity, even if they were still protected. Why look at Audra. Her brothers, and Heath had to include himself in that count now he realized, took care of her, but she still was allowed to go about pretty much as she pleased, and on her own. She was a superb horsewoman, and she had been almost everywhere on the vast Barkley holding on her own at one time or another. She was good with a rifle, could use a handgun passably, and she chose the men she wished to see on her own. When she married it would be because she loved the man, and…..to be perfectly frank with himself he thought with a small smile, because her brothers had taken his measure and were sure he was the right one for her.

Audra, looking at Heath saw a small smile pass over the solemn face he had assumed since they had come into the parlor. She knew he had wanted to flee the gathering almost as soon as they had risen from the table. She had seen him glancing at the French doors in an almost desperate manner. Her quiet brother was not one for parties she knew. It was one of the things that set him apart from her other brothers. Jarrod was always comfortable in any social situation. He was well read and always up on current events. He could talk on almost any subject for any length of time. Nick, while not as knowledgeable about as many things as Jarrod was always ready to talk. He had an opinion about most things, and was always willing to share it.

It always amused Audra to watch her brothers at any given gathering. She could tell at a glance almost which of her brothers a man would be drawn to. The well-dressed gentleman of substance would be drawn to her brother Jarrod and his quite but penetrating voice. The men of spirit and drive would be drawn toward Nick and his loud voice and boisterous manner. Even her brother Eugene, though not yet a man full grown had a way about him. He combined the two manners of his brothers, slightly boisterous still in his youth, he had Jarrod's way with words. He wasn't as smooth as Jarrod, or as magnetic as Nick, but he was learning.

Heath was a different matter all together. She had watched him, at the informal gatherings they had attended together in the last months. Two Saturday night socials and a barn raising had given her occasion to see her brother interact with others. That he was quiet to the point of silence was a given. You noticed it about him at once. There was just something about him that was….comfortable. Comfortable in the way that sitting at the side of a lake was comfortable, or on the top of a mountain. His was a silence that let you think your own thoughts and express them as you would with no criticism or judgment. Heath listened a lot, and truly heard what you said.

His coming here had not been easy she knew, and there where those who shunned him. It had angered her at first, but he had simply patted her arm and smiled at her in that quiet way and told her that they didn't matter. She knew that they did matter, to him and to her, but she had gone along. She had thought because he was so quiet that she would have to bring people to him to be sure that he would have someone to talk to. But she had underestimated the power of his appeal.

She had noticed that a parade of people seemed to find their way to him in the course of a night. He didn't seek them out, but they found him. Unlike her brothers they were not in groups however, it was always one on one, with Heath giving what appeared to be his whole attention to the speaker. She had looked over in the course of the evenings and seen him speaking with Father Donnagal, the local priest; Mrs. Luella Pearson, widow and current head of the lending library building committee; Jock Pratt, owner of the largest saloon in Stockton, and a grizzled old timer by the name of Jubal T. Huckmeister who had come down out of the mountains with a donkey load of ore for assaying. He had spent the longest time with Jubal during the last social, and the two had slipped out together, and she suspected had gone to the saloon for a more powerful drink than was being offered at the social. Heath had seemed happy with it all so she had not interfered.

Now she could see that he was much less comfortable in this situation. Perhaps it was the number of people present, or just the situation. She had placed herself at his elbow, clinging to his arm as the others talked, keeping him there in the room. She saw him cast several glances at the open French doors, but he had not tried to leave.

Finally the evening had come to an end. Everyone said his or her good nights, and the Garcia carriage was brought around. Nick went out with the Garcia's and handed first Lucia and then Maria up into the carriage. He had arranged to see her the next day at their ranch after church services. he would join them for lunch. Don Garcia offered his hand.

"It has been lovely to meet your family Nicholas, and to see your home, and I can see," he said gesturing around at the moonlit ranch yard with the white gleaming barns and fences, "why you are so proud of it. I can also see why you are proud of your family. Your mother and sister are beautiful women. I am surprise that they are not wed. The men of your country must be blind." He smiled.

"Your brother, Jarrod, also impresses me. He speaks well, and I can see what you mean by him being perfect for politics. He would be a good man in the legislature or even the Governor's mansion. I will be honored to introduce him to my friends. They are powerful men, and they are always looking for honest men to represent us in the capitol." He looked around the ranch yard again.

"I also must say that I am impressed by the knowledge of your younger brother. He spoke to me of your horses and your cattle, and I can tell he was well versed for one so young. I must admit that I was confused about him. From your letters I had thought him much younger than you and in school still. Now I see that you have an able right hand man. That will be good when you marry. He will be able to step up and take some of the load. It will be smoother for everyone." With that cryptic statement he tipped his hat and climbed into the carriage before Nick could react. Don Garcia banged his cane on the floor of the carriage and the driver called to the team. The perfectly matched Grey horses moved out eagerly, wanting to return to their familiar stalls.

Nick stood there looking after the carriage, his mind whirling at what the older man had just said. Nick had intended to use his visit tomorrow to address the issue of his……could he say it?..his brother…. with his future father-in–law. He was not looking forward to airing his family's dirty laundry in this manner, but it was only a matter of time until someone, somewhere, said something, and then it would all be out. Better he told them now, and let them get used to the idea. After all, he had. But just now he realized that Don Garcia thought Heath was Eugene. Obviously Maria had shared his letters with her father, and they had simply assumed that Heath was the younger brother he had spoken of. Now that he thought of it, he hadn't really mentioned how old Eugene was, just that he was younger and at Berkley. Obviously while Heath might be younger, there was no way he had been at collage. You only had to hear that drawl to understand that. He could understand the older man's confusion.

"Well isn't that just dandy" Nick thought to himself as he kicked a rock viciously across the yard, then scowled at the scuff it left on his good boots. "Somehow this was all HIS fault", that little nasty voice in the back of his head seemed to be saying, and he had no doubt who the voice meant. He knew the misunderstanding was not going to make his discussion with Don Garcia any easier tomorrow. He looked up at the moon-bright sky, and tried to make the voice go away. He would just have to do what he had to do. He caught sight of someone moving across the yard from the back of the house, and even in the shadows thrown by the moonlight he recognized Heath heading toward the barn. He knew the younger man was going out to check on his horse. The boy seemed to get on better with that little black horse than he did with any man on the place. Nick couldn't fault him for his devotion, he felt the same about Coco. He went and leaned against one of the huge pillars supporting the porch. Letting his eyes follow Heath until he was inside the barn.

It wasn't going to be easy explaining this whole thing to Don Garcia. Hell nothing about the whole situation had been easy, so why should this be any different. He watched as his brother, there that word was again, left the barn and headed back to the kitchen door. Nick waited until he had gone in before he took one last look around the yard, and went back inside. It was time to get some sleep. He was going to need it tomorrow.

**Chapter 6**

The following day Nick found that nothing seemed to be going as planned. The family was late getting off to church, and on the way home the wheel came off the carriage. It was only due to the fact that they were traveling very slowly over an unexpectedly bumpy part of the road that the carriage was able to remain upright. The other reason that the minor inconvenience didn't turn into a greater problem was that Heath had been driving, and was able to control the horses. Of course Nick tried to ignore that fact as he swung down from Coco. He really wasn't prepared to give his brother credit for anything at this moment. He and Jarrod had chosen to ride that morning and had been following the carriage at a distance. They had been discussing a new parcel of land that Nick had been trying to purchase when they heard a cry of alarm from up ahead.

They had looked forward to see the carriage skewing around as the horses shied in alarm at the sudden change behind them. They could see that Heath had risen partly to his feet and was using all his strength to hold the horses in place against their natural urge to run. As they approached, slowly so as not to further excite the team, they could hear him talking to them, and could see that the horses were already calming despite the strangeness of the situation. The boy had a way with him.

Nick went to the head of the horses and grabbed the halter piece of the near horse, then began calming it. He watched Jarrod help the ladies down from the carriage and move them into the shade of a nearby tree. Nick met the pale blue eyes of his newest brother and nodded. Wordlessly Heath let up on the reins and sprung down from the carriage, moving to the head of the other horse. Working together, but with no conversation, they unhitched the team and tied them to a downed tree where they could crop some grass while the men looked at the carriage.

Jarrod joined them at the side of the carriage, reporting that the women had suffered no injury, and were comfortable for the time sitting in the grass under the tree. They were both practical women of the range, and recognized that these things happened, though Jarrod noted that Audra had mentioned that she was not pleased with the idea of getting grass stains on her skirt. He was amused as his brothers rolled their eyes in concert. The men turned their attention to the wheel.

"Axle ain't broke. Looks like it just made it's way off when the pin fell out. We should be able to jury rig something to get us back to the ranch, don't you think?" Heath offered. Jarrod noticed that he addressed the question not to Nick, but to himself. He cast a look at Nick who was scowling. Jarrod frowned as he realized that Nick was about to refuse the suggestion out of hand simply because Heath had made it, and opened his mouth to make a comment of his own. He stopped when he saw Nick take a deep breath, and with visible effort, relax the scowl.

"Looks like he's right. By the time one of us got to the ranch and back here with a pin and some tools we could be halfway home. Let's find something to use and get the wheel back on. With the three of us it shouldn't take long." Jarrod could have applauded his brother's attitude, and found himself almost smiling at Heath's momentary startled look as he listened to Nick's words. The flash of pleasure that he saw in the pale blue eyes was also telling. Heath had not expected Nick to agree.

The three men discussed what they would need, and spread out to find the proper tools. A rock and a thick limb would provide the necessary swedging tool to get the wheel back into place on the axel, and a longer limb and rock served as a fulcrum and lever to lift the carriage as Heath moved the wheel onto the axle and then pounded it into place. The pin to hold it there proved a bit more of a problem. None of the men felt that a piece of wood would remain in place. They needed a piece of metal that could be bent around after going through the hole in the end of the axle. Anything else would allow the wheel to come loose again.

The ladies settled the answer to that dilemma. They had been watching the whole thing, and when it became obvious that there seemed to be no appropriate solution available in nature, Audra and Victoria had conferred. They had slipped behind a large tree and had emerged to offer a slim piece of metal, about the width of a small finger, and six or seven inches long. Victoria had offered it matter of factly to Jarrod who looked at her in curiosity. He heard a snicker from his youngest brother and cast a glance at the blond who shook his head admiringly.

"Never did rightly know what good them corset stays were, guess now I know." He said simply and took the metal from Jarrod. He pushed it through the hole and started to bend it into place. Nick stopped him before he could get to far.

"You'll cut your hands to pieces on that. Let me do it." He raised a gloved hand. Heath stepped back and watched as Nick bent the metal into a rough twist. They both nodded, thinking it would hold for now. Neither saw the look exchanged between Jarrod and Victoria. It had been the first time that Nick had shown any concern for Heath at all, and both were wondering if it signaled a change in Nick's attitude.

They proceeded to the ranch, and Nick was dismayed to find that the delay had caused him to be late for his appointment at the Garcia ranch. He changed out of his church going clothes and headed out. He arrived almost an hour after he had been due and was shown into the parlor of the large ranch house. The servant told him that the family had already sat down to dinner, and Nick had requested to wait until they were done. He noticed that the adobe structure had been redone in the manner of a Mexican rancho, with the large wooden furniture, all of it looking old, and with rich colored fabrics. He turned as he heard the sound of someone coming into the room. It was Don Garcia. Nick went forward and took the older man's offered hand.

"I'm sorry to be late, Don Garcia. I'm afraid there was a small accident on our way home from church that delayed our return to the ranch. It seemed that I could get here as quickly as a message would so I wanted to come myself and apologize."

"It is of no concern, Nicholas. These things happen. In any event we ran into some friends at church ourselves and they have joined us for dinner. You must join us also. I will not take no for an answer." He led Nick into the dining room, a huge room with an equally large table. There were eight people already there, and a servant was adding another setting. Nick settled into place and acknowledged the introductions as Don Garcia made them. He found that the friends Don Garcia had spoken of were several of the richest Mexican landowners in the area.

Nick knew them by name, but since thy usually kept to their own, he had not had much chance to get to know them. Maria was seated across the large table from him and he smiled at her, and got a shy smile back in return. He was slightly put out that he had not been allowed to sit next to her where there was an empty chair, so that they could speak. In any other setting he would have forgotten his manners and simply spoke to her anyway across the table, but given the formality that he sensed in her father he thought it best to refrain. He instead talked about grazing with one of the ranchers.

After a very long dinner, at least from Nick's point of view the men retreated to a masculine study for brandy and cigars. Nick cast a wistful look after Maria as she and the other ladies retreated toward the parlor. She cast him what he hoped was a similar glance. It was almost an hour before Don Garcia signaled that they should rejoin the woman. Normally Nick would not have minded the discussion of horses and cattle. He was after all a rancher, and it was his life. But today he was finding it frustrating that the Garcia's were so formal as to observe the practice of ladies and men separating after a meal. He had become used to his own family's practice of gathering after dinner to spend time together. He was sure that Maria would enjoy the change when they married and she came to live at the Barkley mansion.

Unfortunately Nick's frustration was only to grow over the next several hours. He was in the same room as Maria, but he seldom got to speak to her at any length, and even then they could only speak of things that were not really important. He also noticed that while most of the people present spoke English when talking with him, they reverted to Spanish the rest of the time. His Spanish had been learned on the range and much of his vocabulary consisted of words that he knew would not be appropriate for use in a parlor with ladies present. For the first time that he could recall he felt uncomfortable in a social situation. He hadn't felt this awkward since his first date with Mary Jane Potsky. He finally came to realize that the unexpected guests were going to be staying a lot longer than he had planned to stay himself, and he made his excuses to Maria and Don Garcia. He knew that for the next several days they would be busy in the orchards checking irrigation and also on the range checking the cattle that were still on the lower grazes. There would be little opportunity to see Maria, and speak to her father, until the following Saturday. He suggested as much to the older man as they shook hands. Don Garcia agreed.

Nick made his way home along the familiar trail leading through the North pasture. He had traveled this route many times, and he didn't need to pay too much attention as Coco knew it as well as he did. He allowed his thoughts to linger on Maria, the curve of her cheek, the dark hair, and the brown eyes that smiled at him. He wondered if she would agree to attend the upcoming social with him. He would ask her next Saturday, when he expected they would be able to spend some time. He realized with a start that he had never actually spent any amount of time alone with her except for that short time at Don Garcia's ranch near Los Angeles. They had managed to take some time when they were out riding. The older woman who seemed to be forever hovering had fallen back on her horse, and Nick had had an opportunity to really talk with the lovely young woman, he had been enchanted by her voice, her quick mind, and her spirit. It seemed to be love at first sight. As the days went by he had become more and more enamored, until it seemed natural to be asking for her hand in marriage, even after such a short time.

He was startled out of his thoughts as Coco gave a snort and stopped. Nick looked in the direction that the horse was looking and saw what had caught the big gelding's attention. He immediately recognized the small black mare, and the slim tan-dressed figure that appeared to be working on the windmill was also recognizable. Nick sat there on the now restive horse and considered his next course of action. It did not appear that his brother-it was getting easier to say that, though he wasn't sure why-hadn't seen him, and Nick was sure that Heath would probably not miss him even if he had been spotted. He had noticed that this new brother seemed to prefer working on his own, or at least didn't mind it.

He wasn't one to need supervision that was for sure. Even Nick had to admit that the boy did a good job, no matter what he turned his hand to, and if Nick were honest with himself, he had assigned Heath just about every job that there was on the ranch, and his brother had done them all without complaint. Nick leaned forward on his saddle horn and considered the figure from a distance. He really hadn't thought about that before.

Heath had proven himself more than able, and willing, to take on just about anyone, including Nick himself, when something rubbed him the wrong way. Yet, he had not so much as made a peep about the jobs he had been assigned. It was like working the breaks during the cattle drive, Nick had expected a protest, and had gotten none. The same could be said about a dozen other jobs that the younger man had done since he came. Then there was the whole thing with Wallant and the ranch hands.

Nick still wasn't sure exactly what to think about that. He had been reluctant, to say the least, to leave the drive in Heath's hands, but since he was the only Barkley available, even if Nick had been unwilling to consider him so in anything BUT name, it had been the only choice. Then when the whole thing had gone to hell with the general…..It was still a sore spot with Nick. He had gotten the tale from the men, and he believed the story that they told. From Heath there had been little information beyond the bare facts. Not that Nick really had expected more. They weren't exactly on good terms, and idle chitchat was definitely not something that was going to happen anytime soon.

He finally turned Coco back to the trail and continued on toward the ranch, but now instead of his bride to be, he was thinking about his brother, and how things had been in the last few months. Nick prided himself on being an honest man, and he realized with some embarrassment that he had not been honest with himself in that time. He had been angry, rightfully so he thought, but the problem was who to be angry with. It wasn't Heath's fault that he had been born, and the two people who were responsible, Thomas Barkley and Heath's mother, Leah Thompson, were dead. It didn't make any sense to be angry with Heath and it didn't do any good to be angry with his parents. It was all incredibly frustrating. But Nick had NEEDED to have a focus for the anger, and he had chosen Heath, simply due to his being the only one present. Now, riding back to the ranch, Nick resolved to try to let his anger go, and even if he couldn't bring himself to treat Heath like he treated Jarrod, at least they could reach some kind of working relationship that wasn't so tense. This resolved he nudged Coco to a run, and the horse gladly stretched out towards home and a Sunday afternoon snooze in his stall.

The weekdays went by quickly, with the regular all consuming work on the ranch. Nick, working on his new resolution, had come to a startling conclusion. If he allowed it to be, Heath would make a hell of a partner. It seemed that the boy had managed to grasp in a few months the things that Nick had taken years getting used to. Some time in those few short months the boy had taken the time to ride over most of the ranch, and had become familiar with the workings and needs of the land. Nick suspected that Duke had been filling Heath in on the production schedules of the various orchards and vineyards, but other than that the boy seemed to posses an intuitive grasp of what had to be done.

Nick startled Heath on Saturday morning by actually asking him what he thought needed to be done that day as they walked out toward the bunk house to hand out assignments. Thinking about it later Nick had to smile at how his newest brother had stopped in his tracks and had looked at him as if he had just proposed riding bareback all day instead of using saddles.

At the time Nick had managed to keep a straight face and after a moment during which Heath studied him closely, his brother had made some very astute suggestions, most of them along the same lines as Nick was thinking, but also including something he hadn't though of. He had listened with all seriousness, and had simply nodded and then continued on toward the bunkhouse. He had gone several strides in that direction before he realized that Heath was not following along. He had stopped and turned to find his brother staring down at the ground and shaking his head.

"Well are you coming? We don't have all day. This is a working ranch you know." He had said, and watched as Heath's head snapped up and the pale blue eyes met his. Heath had started forward without a word and they had continued to the bunkhouse. Nick had been aware of Heath's quiet astonishment as he had proceeded to assign the men to the tasks as the younger man had suggested, including the one thing that Nick had missed. Nick had assigned that task to Heath himself, and had received a second strange look.

It was one of the easiest of the jobs being handed out that day. It would mean that Heath would be finished well before midday, and could take advantage of the half day off that most of the hands enjoyed, instead of working all day long just like any other day of the week, as he had been doing since he came. Nick had come to realize that morning that rather than taking advantage of his position with the Barkley family to slack off on the weekend, Heath had if anything put in more hours than even Nick himself, for instance his working on the windmill last Sunday. Nick had also realized that the boy had done it with out pointing out the fact either. It was only when Nick went over in his head the number of things that didn't have to be done this year that had been done the year before that he realized the scope of what Heath had done.

The boy had sought out and finished many of the small, irritating, chores that took up so much time, using up manpower that could be better utilized elsewhere in the busy spring and early summer. Nick had not had to worry about any of the little details for the last couple of months, and he just now realized why that was. He had been riding with Duke that morning, checking watering holes, and he had turned to the foreman who was making a note in a small notebook that he had carried with him. Nick had frowned at the new addition.

"Since when do you write down stuff?" he had asked of the older man. Duke had looked at him and out up the pad and pencil stub, and had pushed the hat back on his head, and shifted in the saddle so that he could talk to Nick easily without twisting around.

"Since Heath pointed out how good it was to be able to reference back to something time after time. If you got it written down you don't have to try to recall, you just look back and there it is. I been keeping a tally of how the water stands in each watering hole over the last two months. That way I can see which one is losing water fastest, and which are keeping up. Makes it a lot easier to keep track."

"And what had this tallying told you?" Nick enquired, seeing the surprise in Duke's face when he didn't disregard the practice simply because Heath had something to do with it. Nick was becoming quite ashamed of his actions in the past months.

"That we've got too many head on the East side. The water's dropping faster there than anywhere else, and the two holes on the west are getting almost no use. Seems we might want to move a few head around a little early. We can split the bunch on the East and move em over there. We got the prime stuff moved up to the high meadows last week, this group will take to their leavings like it was prime feed. They're a lot tougher bunch." He said. The cattle now running on the eastern grazes were some hearty longhorn cross breed that seemed to flourish where other cows would become skin and bone.

Nick nodded. It seemed like a good plan. It was a better use of the water resources and the graze on both sides would benefit from not having the whole herd on it at once. Nick looked at Duke with narrowed eyes. "That your idea?" he asked.

Duke looked back at him defiantly, "No, as a matter of fact it isn't my idea. Does it matter?"

Nick lowered his head as if considering it then looked back at Duke with a smile. "No, I guess it doesn't." he said. "Let's do it. We'll start Monday." That earned him a startled look from Duke then a grin of approval. The older man guided his horse up along side Coco and slapped him on the back.

"You just might make your daddy proud yet, boy." He said as he swung the horse around and headed back toward the ranch. Nick smiled after him, feeling good that he had finally gotten back in his foreman's good graces.

Later that afternoon Nick made the trip back to the Garcia's ranch. He had taken time to clean up and put on a new shirt, and was looking forward to seeing Maria. He rode into the yard and handed off Coco's reins to the hostler that popped out of the barn at the sound of the horse approaching. Would that Ciego was that prompt. He went up to the big metal bound wooden doors, and was not surprised to see the housekeeper standing there waiting for him. She let him in with a small bow and then led him toward the study where Don Garcia sat behind a large desk made form a heavy dark wood. It was bigger than the one Jarrod used back at the Barkley home, and looked to be quite old.

"Sit down, Nicholas. It is a pleasure to see you. How have you been?" the Don asked, reseating himself after rising to his feet to shake Nick's hand.

"I'm fine. It's been a busy week, getting the ranch ready for summer, and with this early heat, we've been moving the herds early." Nick replied and sat in one of the large leather chairs in front of the desk. The housekeeper appeared again with a pitcher and two glasses, and Don Garcia waved her towards the edge of the desk.

"Ah, Hortencia, good timing." He said and motioned her to pour. To Nick he said, "You have to try Hortencia's sangria. The angels cry for such things in heaven." The housekeeper gave a glass to Nick and he tasted the sweet wine and fruit concoction. It was cold, and tasted good on his dry throat.

"It's very good. I could get used to that in the afternoon. Beats lemonade all to…" He stopped with a look at the woman. Don Garcia laughed and waved the housekeeper out of the room.

"Always we must consider the delicate ears of the women. Now it is only we men, and yes it is better than the lemonade." He sipped at his own glass. "I am sorry that we did not have time to speak on Sunday."

Nick shook his head. "No need to be sorry. There was nothing that could not wait. We do have several things to discuss I know, not the least of which is the wedding." He looked around. "I uh…kind of expected Maria to be here." He noted.

"She will join us later. I had hoped that I could pursued you to join us for supper, there will be plenty of time for you two to talk then."

Nick was disappointed that evidently he was not going to get a chance to speak with Maria is person, at least not right away, but he didn't allow it to show. He sipped at his drink again, and then sat forward in his chair. No time like the present to get to the real reason he needed to speak to Garcia. "Don Garcia, " he started, "I have to speak to you about something that I think you should know. I don't want you hearing about this from another source…" he was saying when the door flew open and Philippe Constanza, Don Garcia's foreman, came into the study.

"Don Garcia," He cried out, and started speaking in a torrent of Spanish too fast for Nick to catch everything. He understood enough to know that something had gotten out of its pen, and among the cows of a neighboring ranch. From the furor that it seemed to be producing, he assumed it was probably a bull that had gotten loose. He had heard that the older man had some fine pure blood bulls, and assumed it was one of those.

Don Garcia had risen to his feet at the opening of the door, and now strode around the desk, giving rapid orders in Spanish, which caused the foreman to nod and run back out. Garcia looked at Nick. "I am sorry my young friend, but there is a problem with the stock, if you do not mind...." he indicated the door. Nick stood and shook his head.

"No, of course not. If you don't mind I'll come along with you. I've heard about the quality of your stock, and would be pleased to see it, and if there is any way that I can help just let me know." Nick answered and followed Garcia out the door. They went across the ranch yard to one of the barns. Constanza was there leading out Don Garcia's horse, and when he saw Nick following he yelled at the ranch hand to get Coco.

They were soon riding to the East, the closest border the ranch had with another. The Nick knew that they had almost reached their destination when he saw a group of men standing near what appeared to be a downed section of fence. As they got closer he could recognize George Peterson, the owner of the neighboring ranch, several of his hands, and several of the Don's hands. The two groups were standing apart, and seemed to be glaring at each other. They came to a stop nearby and dismounted.

Don Garcia approached his men and waved for one of the men that was there to come forward. Nick was pretty sure that the man was the Segundo, the straw boss, of the ranch. Nick saw that one of Don Garcia's hands was holding the halter of a large bull. It didn't take a cattleman's eye to see that the bull was the highest quality. It wasn't a breed that Nick was familiar with, but he suspected that whatever breed it was, this was one of the best. He tried to follow the rapid Spanish but got lost pretty quick. The best he could do was pick out a word here and there. Finally the Segundo finished and Don Garcia nodded. He indicated that the bull should be led back onto his land, and he started toward Peterson and his men. He came to a stop about five feet away. He gave a small bow.

"Senor I regret that this has happened again, those responsible will be punished, and we will of course repair the fence." He said formally. Peterson scowled and shook his head.

"And what about my cows?" he asked. He waved toward a group of cows that were grazing nearby. Nick knew Peterson was proud of his cows, a special breed he had brought in from Texas. They, like the longhorns, seemed to thrive in the hot dry climate, though they seemed to Nick not to be anywhere near as good in bulking up for market. Peterson had been following a breeding program for years trying to find the right combination to get a hardy cow with good beef value. Nick thought it a foolish attempt given the stock he was using, but kept his mouth shut about it for the most part.

"That red monstrosity bred them all, I'll bet. I'll loose the calf crop for a season on all of them. I had plans, now they are all shot to hell." Peterson ranted. "This is the third time that bull's been on my land trying to get at my cows, and this time he made it. If you can't handle your stock any better than that you need to get some new men. " Nick was suddenly reminded why he wasn't too fond of Peterson.

Don Garcia nodded slowly. "I understand the seriousness of this occurrence. You have my personal assurances that it will not happen again."

Peterson made a slashing motion with his hand. "I had your personal assurance last time. That don't get me squat, and my cows are still useless for a season." He growled. Don Garcia took it a lot more calmly then Nick would have taken that tone had it been addressed to him. He did see Don Garcia's lips thin. The older man spun on his heel and spoke rapidly to his foreman in Spanish, holding out his hand and snapping his fingers. The man argued for a moment, but a snapped order from Garcia got him moving toward his horse where he pulled a rifle out of the sheath.

Nick almost absently noted that the rifle was just like Heath's, no doubt from Mexico also. He wondered what the Don was planning to do with a rifle and he was soon to get his answer. The Don grabbed the rifle from the foreman's hands and stalked toward the bull. Everyone there suddenly knew what he was going to do, and the shock of it kept them all from moving as the Don lifted the rifle, sighted, and fired all in one smooth motion. The shot range out, making almost everyone jump. The bull slumped to his knees and then to his side, to lay unmoving. The other men stood there, shocked into a type of paralysis. They had just seen a man kill a bull worth more money than most of them would ever see in one place, as casually as a man might shoot a diseased range cow. They could not believe it. Don Garcia, seemingly unmoved by his act, tossed the rifle back to Constanza, and came back to stand before Peterson.

"Now there will be no question Senor. I understand the value of bloodlines. It cannot be allowed. You will have no more trouble from my stock. If you will prepare an accounting of the cost of the animals you will be reimbursed. Present the bill to my man of business in town. He will see that you are paid a fair market value." With that, he spun back around and marched to his horse. Nick cast a last look at the dead bull, and mounted Coco. He had to spur the gelding to catch up with Don Garcia. If he expected the man to be angry at the loss of the bull, he was wrong. Don Garcia rode swiftly, but he didn't seem angry. Finally Nick couldn't hold back the question.

"Wasn't that kind of a radical solution to the problem, Don Garcia. I mean that bull must have cost a pretty penny. It seems kind of an expensive gesture. Peterson would have been happy with getting the money for the cows." He observed as he rode beside the older man.

Don Garcia shook his head. "No my young friend, you do not understand. I did him a great disservice. The bull had bred his cows, and the bloodlines were contaminated. Any offspring would have been worthless, as will the cows from now on. As to the bull, it makes no matter. He was the means to an end, a pure bloodline to be sure, but here are others to be had. It could not be allowed. The bloodline, that is what matters, it must remain pure." They rode in silence for several seconds, then the older man continued.

"This is why it is a good thing that you and my daughter are marrying. The line of Garcia has been pure for ten generations, since records were kept. It is easy to tell by seeing you, by seeing your family that your blood runs pure, that your family is above reproach. You children will be of pure blood, true to their ancestors."

Nick had listened to the old man in disbelief as he rattled on about bloodlines, and keeping them pure. What the hell did that have to do with shooting an expensive bull for no apparent reason? The bull had simply done what bulls did, it was unfortunate that the cows had happened to be Peterson's breeders, but that could have been solved with a few dollars for each cow, and everyone could have gotten on with life. And what was all this about contaminated bloodlines?

"Wait a minute", Came that little voice in his head again, "What did he say about the Barkley bloodline being pure? Well that wasn't exactly completely true now is it?" He almost pulled Coco to a halt as he realized the sudden implications of what had gone on, and the attitude that the Don was exhibiting. There was no way that Nick could broach the subject of Heath's parentage now. His mind was whirling as he handed off Coco to the hostler at the Garcia's ranch and followed the older man back inside the house. He was mollified a little to see Maria there waiting for them. She was dressed in a simple pale pink dress that did wonderful things for her skin. He bowed over her hand as he had seen Jarrod do. They went into the parlor and sat down. Garcia looked at Nick.

"Before we were interrupted you were about to tell me something. Please, continue now." He said.

Nick stared at him, unsure as to what he should do. He knew this wasn't the time to bring up Heath and the circumstances of his birth, but he knew there had to be a time, and soon. He thought quickly. "Well, I was going to say that there was a social next weekend in town, and I would like to take Maria if that would be alright with you. I thought it would be a good way for her to meet the people here, and a way for us to spend some time together." He really wanted to spend some time with her alone, but he was beginning to realize that it didn't seem that was going to happen. "My sister will be there, and my brothers." He added trying to make things appear better when he saw the doubt in the older man's eyes. He glanced at Maria who was looking at her father, waiting for his decision. It was somewhat disturbing to Nick that she didn't seem to really have an opinion about it herself, but instead was content to wait for her father to decide.

Finally the old Don spoke. "Very well. I will allow it. I am sure that if your sister is going your mother will also be in attendance. I could not ask for a better chaperone than she."

Nick gave a forced smile, and wondered how he was going to convince his mother to go along to the social. He knew she did not regularly like to attend, feeling they were more for the young people in the community. Nick was sure that she would go if he explained the reason, but he had a feeling of trepidation growing in his guts. He looked over at Maria, and smiled genuinely at her.

"My mother wanted me to ask you if there was anything she could do to help you with the planning of the wedding. She and Audra would love to give you a hand making any arrangements, and want me to find out what colors you were thinking about. I guess they want to get busy shopping." He wasn't really sure exactly what all was involved here, but his mother and sister talked as if the six months before the wedding were not anywhere near enough time to plan. As far as he was concerned they could just show up at the church in their Sunday best and have the priest marry them. It didn't need any planning beyond making sure that the father was on hand. Evidently that wasn't going to happen.

"I would be happy to benefit from your mother's advice. Papa does not understand the needs of a woman to make her wedding as perfect as possible, and it would be nice to speak to another woman. Please tell her that cousin Lucia and I will call during the week to see her. " Maria said, with a smile in her father's direction.

"Well, good." Nick said not really happy with the inclusion of the older woman. Maybe they could get some time alone when Maria came over to speak to his mother. He thought he could convince his mother and Audra to keep the older woman busy while he showed Maria the rose garden. He looked around the room, searching for another topic. Anything to keep from the topic he had come to broach.

"I have to say that you've done wonders with this old place Don Garcia. I didn't get a chance to tell you last week. I know what it looked like before you bought it, and I wasn't sure it might not have been better to just tear it down and start over. It's a shame that Maria's going to have so little time to get used to it." He said cheerily. He looked at her "Of course you'll be comfortable at the ranch. I figure there's some redecorating that you'll want to do, but Mother and Audra will be there to help with that."

Don Garcia was frowning. "I do not understand." He said. He looked from Maria to Nick,. "You will be living here once you have married. That is why I have had the house done in such a way. You will take over the running of this and the other ranches near Los Angeles. I will return to my rancho near Jalisco, and leave it all in your hands. This is the wisest plan, surely you can see that?"

Nick could only stare at the older man for several moments, hoping he didn't look as flummoxed as he felt. It had never occurred to him that the man would expect him to come here. He finally found his voice. "I'm sorry Don Garcia, but that isn't part of the plan. I mean I'll be happy to help you with running the ranches as much as possible, but I HAVE a ranch to run, and a home to bring my wife to, and that's the Barkley ranch." He stated leaving firmly, meeting Don Garcia's eyes head on. Don Garcia did not look away, and the two men may have continued to stare at each other for an hour if Maria had not risen to her feet, and stepped between them.

"I am sure that this is something that can be discussed at a later time. There is plenty of time before the wedding. Juanita has just come to say that supper is ready." She said indicating a servant who had appeared in the doorway. "Let us go in and eat before it grows cold." She looked from one man to the other, and she could see that neither was prepared to back down at that time. Finally her father nodded.

"As you say, it can be discussed at a later time. Let us enjoy supper." He indicated that Maria and Nick should preceded him to the dining room.

Nick offered his arm to Maria who took it. As they went toward the dining room, Nick could not help but think that the day had pretty much gone to hell. He had not accomplished what he had come to do, he had seen that his future father in law was almost certainly not going to approve of his family's acceptance of Heath, and he had learned that he had been expected, at least by Don Garcia, to leave the ranch he had helped build and for which his family had sacrificed, and live here. He wasn't really sure which of these revelations was the worst, but all of them together made him wonder if he could eat anything at all. He also had a feeling that the dinner conversation was not going to be particularly lively. It was going to be a long meal.

**Chapter 7**

Three nights later Nick Barkley sat up in his bed not sure if he had cried out or if that had been only in his dream. Hr raised a slightly shaking hand to his brow and wiped away the sweat he found there. The images from the dream had followed him into the waking world, and they were as disturbing now as they had been in the dream. He had been back at the boundary of the two ranches, the other men had been there, and the confrontation had been much the same, though with that strange perspective that dreams gave you. But at one crucial point the dream ceased to echo the true happenings of that day. In his dream the Don had the rifle, and he had brought it to his shoulder and fired, but it hadn't been the bull that stood there, that had taken the bullet fired from that rifle, sometimes it was his father, sometimes it was a woman who Nick understood after some consideration had come to be Heath's mother Leah, and sometimes, as tonight, it was Heath. It seemed every time he closed his eyes the dream was there. Sometimes it changed in more ways than just the victim.

Sometimes Maria was there, looking on with approval. Sometimes the rest of his family was there, demanding that he do something to stop it. Sometimes his father spoke to him, urging him to act. Leah never spoke to him, probably because his mind could not come up with what she might say. One thing that had not happened was Heath asking him to intervene. In the dreams Heath simply looked at him and then looked away, facing his killer with head held high, and eyes blazing with a cold fire, not unlike that which Nick had seen over the last several months as the two had butted heads over just about anything. No matter what form they took however, the dreams were always disturbing. He looked toward the window and saw that the sun was just starting to light the sky. Might as well go ahead and get up.

He rose and got dressed, leaving off his boots as he headed down the stairs with them in hand. The house was quiet at this time, with no one else yet up. He wondered through the empty dining room headed for the kitchen, and stopped at the door as he realized that there was a light on there, and voices coming from within. He approached the swinging door on his stocking feet, and listened to the low voices.

"I'm telling ya Silas. You're the second best biscuit maker that I ever knew." Nick heard, and immediately identified the speaker as Heath.

"Now iffn you gonna say your mama was a better cook than me Heath, then I ain't gonna be able to argue with you none. You can't tell a man that his mama ain't the best cook in the world, even iffn it ain't true." That voice was Silas. Nick noted that the houseman had dropped the 'mister' that he had used with Nick, Jarrod, and Eugene since he could remember. Nick was jolted from the significance of that point when he heard a sound that he realized he had not heard before. He heard his newest brother laugh. It was deep, and hearty, and it reminded Nick so much of his father's laugh that he had to lean against the wall as his legs seemed to become weak.

"My God" he said to himself, "Why didn't I realize that before?" he asked himself. The little voice in the back of his head chose that moment to answer him. "Because you never gave him anything to laugh about." He shook his head to make the vice go away and listened to the voices from the kitchen again.

"Now Silas, I ain't saying that my mama WASN'T a good cook, but when it came to biscuits my Aunt Hannah could make a biscuit that would just about float off the plate if you wasn't watching them careful like. Yours are pretty darn close to bein' that good."

"You done said that that Hannah was a black woman didn't you, Heath?" Silas asked. Heath must have nodded because Silas continued. "Bet her mama taught her just like my mama taught me. Once you learn how you don't never forget, and I know my mama could cook like nothin' you ever seen. She could make more with less than anyone I ever knowed." Silas's voice was fond with memories.

"My mama was the same way. I swear she could take a little piece of gristly meat and make it last two or three days in a pot of stew, or some fine soup. Not that we got meat all that often, but when we did she could make it last. I recall she used to say that iffn you got a bowl of stew with a piece of meat in it that meant you was extra lucky that day. Took me a long time to realize that she never found that piece of meat in her bowl. It always seemed to be in mine." Heath said reflectively. Nick felt his stomach turn at the implications of that statement. That was another thing he had not really thought about. He had known that Heath and his mother had not had anything like what he had benefited from growing up, but he hadn't realized…his train of thoughts was interrupted again by the voices.

"Not havin' sure makes a body grateful for the havin', now don't it." Silas observed. Nick heard that so familiar laugh again.

"Yeah, but the havin' makes the possibility of not havin' a hard thing to face. I'm comin' to think that the not havin' just might be better in the end. You can't miss what you never had." Heath said.

"What you figurin' to loose?" Silas asked.

"Nothin' Silas. Just runnin' my mouth some." Nick heard a chair squeak against the wood floor of the kitchen. "I best get to it. Day's awasting. Thanks for the biscuits Silas, even if they wasn't quite up to snuff they sure will take the edge off until breakfast." Nick heard a thump and then running footsteps followed by the back door opening.

"You best be runnin' boy." He heard Silas call quietly. "Don't know what makes you think you be getting' any breakfast outta me though" The deep laugh came again and the door closed. He could hear Silas chuckling to himself, and going about his preparations for the family breakfast.

Nick moved back from the door and sat down in one of the chairs in the dining room. He pulled on his boots, then leaned his elbow on the table and propped his head on his hand. He wasn't a man that really believed in things happening by chance. Things happened because they were supposed to happen, or more often with him, because he had made them happen. Now, he was faced with one thing after the other that he was pretty sure he hadn't made happen. He sure hadn't wanted to have another brother show up out of the blue. And he hadn't wanted his bride to be to have a father who thought he could plan out Nick's future with no input from him, and he hadn't planned to start feeling something for his newest brother….He stopped his train of thought and rose to his feet. He made sure that he made plenty of noise as he headed toward the kitchen again. As he pushed through he door Silas looked around from where he was stirring something in a bowl.

"Mornin' Mr. Nick." He said. "You is up early this mornin'"

"Couldn't sleep Silas, figured I would get a few things done before breakfast. Can I get something to eat to tide me over?" Nick asked, trying not to think about the conversation he had overheard.

Silas offered napkin-covered basket of biscuits, and indicated a small bowl of butter on the small table in the center of the kitchen. "Help yourself, Mr. Nick." Nick did so, and sat there at the table eating his biscuits. While he ate, Silas kept working , humming quietly to himself, Nick couldn't help but feel slightly jealous of the rapport that the houseman had seemed to have formed with his brother. Nick couldn't remember a time that Silas had not addressed him in the same formal way that he did now. Even when he was a less than well-behaved boy, Silas had always been the model of propriety. How had the two men become such fast friends?

Nick finished his biscuits, thanked Silas, and went out the back door. The sun was just coming over the eastern horizon as he stepped out. He moved his gaze from the spectacle that he didn't often see, and looked toward the barn. He knew that Heath often did work there in the morning before breakfast. Nick had heard his mother tell Heath again and again that no one expected him to work before breakfast, but the boy kept doing it anyway. Up until now Nick had simply viewed it as an act of defiance by the younger man. Kind of like throwing it in Nick's face that he was up and working while Nick slept in, though it was only until seven. Nick had considered getting up early himself, but he had discarded the idea because he was sure that Heath would take it as a victory.

Nick started toward the barn, figuring he would find something to keep him busy until breakfast then stopped when he saw a slim figure leaning on the fence watching the sunrise. As he watched, the sun finally made it's way all the way over the horizon, and the younger man turned his head to look at Nick. Even from a distance Nick could see the smile that had been on Heath's face fade and be replaced by the flat noncommittal mask that he had worn for the last several months, at least with Nick. Nick started forward again and came to stand near his brother. He felt an almost overwhelming urge to hear that familiar/unfamiliar laugh again, but he fought it down.

"Morning." He said with a nod, and leaned against the fence not too far from Heath. On his part Heath looked him over with suspicion and then nodded back.

"Mornin'"

"Nice sunrise wasn't it." Nick said, looking back to the east. A simple "Yep" was the only reply he got. He sighed in frustration. He stood away from the fence and started toward the barn, sensing that Heath was following along behind him. He hadn't really realized how quietly the man moved. Suddenly Nick felt a wave of curiosity overcome him. He wanted to know more about this man that was his brother. He knew everything about Jarrod. His likes, dislikes, abilities, desires. About Heath he knew nothing. Of course that was his own fault. He bet himself that he could go to Audra and find out more in five minutes about Heath than he had learned on his own in the last several months. It was a slightly disturbing thought.

Once they were inside the barn Heath went to the stall where his mare was. He picked up a currycomb and started brushing her down, speaking softly to her as he did. He seemed to be ignoring Nick completely. Nick grumbled to himself and went into the tack room. Nick had noticed that there had been some wear on the trace lines of the heavy work team's tack when they had unhitched the evening before. They had sent the heavy freight wagon into town the previous evening to get a load of feed, and Nick had noticed the wear when he had helped to untack the horses. He found the set and started in patching the trace. He head someone moving around over head, up in the loft, and realized that Heath was up there throwing down food to the horses. After a while he heard rhythmic thumps and he figured that Heath was moving the bagged feed from where it had been left just inside the loft door to it's regular place against the wall. The bags were one hundred pounds each, and awkward, but the sound of the stacking was regular as clockwork. The boy might be thin for his frame, but the muscle he had was whipcord tough, Nick could vouch for that himself. He finished with the trace and looked at his pocket watch, still another half hour until breakfast. He looked up at the loft floor above him. There had to be over a hundred of the bags, and he knew heath could not have moved the whole lot yet. He climbed up the ladder, and soon was standing near the dwindling stack at the loft door. Heath looked at him in curiosity.

"I'll hand them to you and you stack em." Nick offered. It'll save a step and get the job done faster. Heath seemed to consider the offer, and then gave a single nod in agreement. There wasn't going to be any chitchat it seemed. Nick and Heath worked for the next twenty minutes in silence, and had the bags neatly stacked. Nick stood up straight after he handed off the last bag to Heath and stretched his back. He watched as Heath did the same after he placed the last bag. The light blue eyes met his, and seemed to be trying see into his soul. Nick, still uncomfortable with this man, brother or not, looked away, making a show of pulling out his watch.

"We better get in and clean up. Mother will have our hides if we're late to the table." He said, and saw a spark of humor in the pale eyes. H suspected there was a smart Alec comeback in there somewhere, but Heath said nothing, just nodding his agreement. Nick led the way down and out of the barn. They were halfway to the house when they heard the sound of a rider coming in. Nick recognized Constanza, Don Garcia's foreman. The man drew his horse to a stop and spotting Nick dismounted and tied it to a fence. He came up to the two ranchers, his large rowled spurs jingling as he walked. Nick noticed that the man's dark gaze kept going to Heath who was standing about three feet behind him, and wondered what was going on.

Constanza came to a stop facing Nick. "Don Garcia wishes to talk to you senor," his eyes wondered to Heath again, then back to Nick. "Immediately. It is very important."

Nick glanced back at Heath, who was watching the Mexican hand with an expressionless face. Nick nodded his head. He didn't bother questioning the foreman, knowing that even if the man knew what Don Garcia wanted Constanza wouldn't take it upon himself to say what it was. "Let Don Garcia know that I'll be over as soon as I finish breakfast." He said to the man.

Constanza frowned. "Don Garcia said...."he started

Nick cut him off . "I said after breakfast, and I meant it. You can wait here and go back with me, or you can go back and tell Don Garcia that I'll be there as soon as possible." Nick started toward the house, seeing Heath start to follow him out of the corner of his eye. He really didn't care which the foreman chose to do. He had taken about three strides when he heard Constanza say something in rapid Spanish, evidently aimed at Heath. Nick didn't understand the words, but he did understand the tone. He looked at Heath, and saw that the pale blue eyes had changed to pale ice. Before Nick could make a move Heath unleashed a fist that took the Mexican man by complete surprise. He stumbled backward and landed on his rear end in the dust. Heath moved to stand over him, and said something to him in Spanish as rapid and fluent as the other man's had been.

The men from the bunkhouse had noticed the commotion in the yard, and several of them had come to stand nearby. The foreman rubbed his chin and gave a resentful look at the men, then a grim look at Heath who spun on his heel and walked toward the house. Nick gave one last glance to the man in the dust, then caught Duke's eye. He jerked his head toward Constanza's horse, and Duke nodded in understanding. Heath made a beeline for the front door, walking fast and not looking in either direction. Nick followed on his heels. Heath entered the house and started for the stairs without a word. Nick reached out and grabbed his right arm. It was like grabbing an angry bear. Heath spun and threw off his hand, then followed through to push Nick away with a quick shove in the chest.

"I done told you to keep your hands to yourself." He ground out. His eyes had thawed from the ice Nick had seen in the yard, and now shot blue fire. Nick stomped down his own flare of anger, and stepped back up to stand toe to toe with his brother.

"What did he say out there?" he said in a low voice, his eyes locked on Heath's. Whatever had wound up his brother had to have something to do with that, and Nick intended to know what it was. Heath looked away but his eyes snapped back around when Nick reached out and grabbed his arm. At the flash of fire Nick released the arm and held up his hands hoping that the boy would not lash out again. "What did he say?" he demanded again. The blue fire slowly faded until the pale eyes only appeared to be washed-out, tired and ….sad. Finally a humorless smile quirked his lips on one side.

"Nothing that ain't been said before and won't be said again." He said,

Nick shook his head. "What does that mean? What did he say?"

The humorless smile quirked again. "It don't matter. Let it be." He turned away and started up the stairs. Nick would have pursued and pressed for an answer, though he already had a pretty good idea what had been said, but he heard the light swish of his mother's skirts come from the dining room.

"Nicholas, are you coming into breakfast?" She asked, coming to put a hand on his back. He looked down at her and bent to drop a kiss on her cheek.

"I have to clean up then I'll be in. Sorry I'm late." He said simply. She nodded, her sharp gray eyes searching his.

"Have you seen Heath? He hasn't come in either." She asked.

Nick glanced up the stairs, then back at her. He shook his head. "I don't think he's going to make it."

"You know I do not approve of you boys going out to work without a hearty breakfast." She said sternly.

"He got something from Silas earlier, and I'll make sure he stops for lunch, even if it's a sandwich on the range, okay?" Nick said. She nodded reluctantly, her gaze also straying toward the staircase.

"Very well. I'll count on you to take care of your brother. Get washed up and come in to breakfast yourself. We'll wait for you." She swept away back into the dining room. Nick watched her until she was gone, then looked back up the stairs. His mind was whirling again.

He suspected he knew exactly what the Mexican vaquero had said, and as Heath indicated it probably wasn't anything that hadn't been said before, possibly by Nick himself. Recently Nick had begun to understand just what it was like for someone who was born out of wedlock. The things that were thought, the things that were said, the things that were done: all cruel and no doubt incredibly hurtful. His gut twisted at the thought that he had indulged in that same thing, and had hurt his brother badly. Was there a way to apologize for something like that? He didn't know.

Also in his mind was the summons to Don Garcia's ranch. If Constanza knew about Heath, there was little doubt that Don Garcia didn't. He imagined that little bit of news had not gone over well. He was not looking forward to finding out. Breakfast had little appeal, but he knew that his mother was already put out about Heath not showing, and he would not make it worse by not going himself. He wanted to keep this to himself for now. Maybe Garcia would surprise him and have an open mind about the subject. Nick snorted to himself as he washed his hands and ran a comb through his hair. That didn't seem likely, not with the way his luck was running of late. With one last look in the mirror he headed downstairs to face his family. He couldn't help but look at the closed door to the small room at the head of the stairs, and wonder what was going through the boy's mind right then. He suspected Heath's thoughts weren't any more pleasing than his own.

**Continued...**


	2. Chapters 8 thru 14

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

**Chapters 8-14**

**by Ellen H**

**Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.**

Chapter 8

Heath slipped out of the house through the French doors in the study. He felt bad for sneaking out, but he didn't want to face anyone now, and he had no stomach for eating. He knew he could have been heard if he used the front door, and Silas would have seen him if he used the kitchen. It seemed fitting somehow, given the circumstances, that he had to creep out like a thief caught in the act. He moved toward the barn, being sure to stay out of sight of any windows, and slipped quietly into the stall where Gal was stabled. He swiftly saddled the little mare and was on her and out of the yard before anyone saw them. He headed toward the west side, knowing that Nick had been going to assign the job of checking the fence line in that area today. It was a comfort in a way, solitary work that he could do mindlessly, as the occurrences of the past days ran through his mind.

It was all coming to an end. He had wondered, in his darker times, how long it would be, and it appeared that the time had come. All of his life anything that was good had been taken from him before it's time. His mother, various women who he had thought would be the 'one',…… his innocence. Only Gal remained to him, the steadfast presence in his life. Non-judgmental, loving, and as protective as a dog, she had stood by him unlike any person except for his mother, and in the end, he had pushed her away. He had just recently managed to convince himself, at least he told himself that he had, that he might just be able to hold on to this, to stay here on this ranch, with these people, to be one of them. But he had forgotten, forgotten the hard learned lesson. He wasn't like them, he wasn't like anyone here, and no one would ever let him forget it. He couldn't work his way out of it. He couldn't buy his way out of it. He couldn't fight his way out of it.

The idea of fighting turned his mind to his brother, Nick. Now there was a man that would be happy to see him go. They had clashed from the start. Nick had been too….everything. Heath had hated him from first sight. In his shiny boots and clean, well-fitting clothes and sittin' on his big horse that looked like it never had to get by on thistles or cactus with the thorns burned off. Then, once he had leaned that Nick was his brother, things had only gotten worse. Nick's resentment was plain, and Heath was not such a saint as to turn the other cheek like his Momma, Rachel, and Hannah was always preaching. A man raised his hand to him, and he was gonna raise his back, no doubt about that. If there was one thing he could call his own, it was the pride he had managed to salvage from his wreck of a childhood. Wasn't no one gonna take that away from him. Course, that pride wasn't gonna keep him warm come winter, fill his belly, or give him the family he had so longed for. It looked as if he were on the losin' end again.

He knew what was gonna happen when Nick went over to Don Garcia's ranch. Word had evidently gotten around about him, the bastard that the Barkley's had taken in. Constanza had known, and had shared his opinion, and that meant the patron did too. Heath had been in Mexico a long time, and he knew how things worked. The patron would never accept the fact that the Barkley's publicly acknowledged the existence of such a person as he was. It wasn't so much that he existed, it was the fact that it had been trumpeted about like it had been and he was on display like some wild horse in a corral. If anyone could be said to have more pride than he did, Heath knew it would be the Spanish landowner.

Family lines and public faces were everything to them. You were what your bloodlines made you and what the public saw. Don Garcia would not allow his daughter to marry into a family with the bad taste to acknowledge the bad judgment of the patriarch of the family. Then it would come down to a choice, a choice between her and him. A choice between the woman that Nick loved and the bastard half-brother that he could not stand the sight of. The future and the past. It didn't take no genius to figure out what Nick's choice was going to be. The others would fight it at first, but then they would come to see that a legitimate bride of good blood was worth so much more than a half-blooded brother that had brought nothing but anger and pain to their lives.

Heath paused at a place on the fence that was sagging. He got down and yanked on the poles. They were moving too much to do anything with them now. One was rotted almost all the way through. They needed to be replaced and new holes dug. He made a note in his notebook, wondering if he would still be there when it came tome to do the fencing. He took off his hat and ran a sleeve over his sweating forehead. He looked at the sun. He had been out here for almost four hours already, and had covered over half of the fence on the west side. It was hotter than hell, and his stomach was grumbling about the lack of food. He was well familiar with the grumbling, and could ignore that easily, but the heat was stifling. He had stopped Gal in a patch of shade, and he joined her there to take a drink form his tepid canteen and to share some with her using his hat as a make shift trough. He was glad he hadn't been wearing that good hat that Jarrod had gotten him the last time he was in town getting wire.

They had met on the street in Stockton. Heath had been there to pick up some wire for the endless round of fencing, and Jarrod had been on his way back to his office from a meeting. Heath had been loading the reels of wire with the help of Ezra Tuttle, proprietor of the feed store. Tuttle's man was out with a pulled muscle, and so they had been doing the work between them. Heath had a pair of tough leather gloves on protecting his hands from the barbed wire, but the nasty stuff had already ripped the arm of his shirt, and left a nasty gash. Not that he paid it much mind. Just another scar to add to the collection. Jarrod however had been aghast at the idea of simply rinsing it in the trough and tying it up with a rag. He had insisted on Heath going to his office and allowing Jarrod to clean out the wound. After that Jarrod had insisted that Heath needed a new shirt. He would not be dissuaded, and Heath had found himself in the dry goods store looking at new shirts. He had gotten himself a new blue shirt, putting it on the ranch account at Jarrod's insistence.

Jarrod and the shopkeeper had chatted while Heath slipped in the back and changed into the new shirt. He had come back out and had wondered around the store while Jarrod finished. He had spotted the hat almost immediately, and had gone to look at it. He had picked it up, and ran a hand over the fine material. It was as fine a hat as he had ever seen. He looked at the price tag and grimaced to himself. He placed it back on the rack, and on the theory that temptation was best placed beyond reach he went outside to wait. Five minutes later Jarrod joined him in front of the store, and handed him the hat. Heath had stood there staring from the hat to Jarrod and back again. Finally he had tried to hand it back to his brother with a shake of the head.

"I got me a hat. Man don't got but one head, why should he have more than one hat." He said. But, Jarrod refused to take the hat, putting his hands in his pockets and starting down the sidewalk toward the wagon. He smiled at Heath.

"While it's true you only have one head, Brother Heath, that head has to be in many different places, and some of them warrant a slightly more refined topper. It will do you justice under any circumstances. Please keep it." Jarrod had said. Heath had run his hand over the lightly curled brim once more, and looked up at Jarrod with a slight smile. He slipped off his old hat and put on the new one which fit him just right.

"Well, there ain't many would know about justice as much as you do." He dared to kid his older brother, and was rewarded by a spark of humor in the dark blue eyes. "Thank you Jarrod." He added seriously. They had gone on to have lunch, the first they had shared together alone. It had been a good day. Heath had worn the hat a few times since then choosing his times carefully; a trip to church, a ride with Audra, a trip to Stockton with Mrs. Barkley. He didn't dare wear it on the range where dirt and sweat would soon reduce it to the same state his current hat was in. He was gonna miss that new hat.

He went and sat down with his back against the large valley oak tree, and looked out over the portion of the valley he could see from here. His eyes moved across the rolling hills, already turning from verdant green to brown. The cows grazing in groups here and there, the huge oaks, their roots sent deep in the dry soil. As always when he stopped to really look at the land that was, by the grace of his family, partially his, he could only shake his head in amazement. It had seeped into his blood so quickly. He felt so……at home here. More so on the land than in that big house. He had started to believe that he could belong here, be a part of it, forever. He had almost believed that he could stay here, work here, grow here, and finally be buried here on this ground that had been his father's. It was all a mirage though, like those he had seen in the desert. Everything seemed real, but there was no substance. And like the dying man in the desert seeing a mirage of water in the distance, Heath had come to the realization that this too was going to leave him thirsty, though not for water but for family.

He was going to have to leave. Cut off all connection. They would probably offer him money; they had done it before, or land somewhere. The Barkley's had holdings in many parts of the west, and they could surely pick an isolated piece of real estate that they could use to exile the unfortunate result of Thomas Barkley's indiscretion. But he would not accept. He had his pride, and he would go out with no more than he came with, other than what he had earned by his sweat and effort. He had kept his wages, extravagant amounts by any standards for a ranch hand, in a sock in the top drawer of the dresser in what he had considered, up until this morning, to be his room. It was a goodly sum, and would see him through a time, should he have any trouble getting a job. That shouldn't be no problem though, he thought. He already had him an offer.

Jubal T Huckmeister, the miner who he had met at the last social that Audra had insisted on him attending, had been the one that offered him a job. It seemed they had mutual friends up in the Trinity Mountains where Jubal had come from. He could have assayed out in Redding, or in any number of towns between there and Stockton, but instead he had come all the way here, ostensibly to see his sister, and to throw off anyone who might get the idea of jumping his claim before it was filed should the assay play out like he thought it would. He had struck what looked like a very nice lens of ore up Frenchman's Creek, north of the Trinity River, and he expected to be able to mine the ore out himself with no trouble. The trouble was getting the oar out of the claim and down to the nearest assayer and bank. That would be in Weaverville, over thirty miles as the crow flies in some very rough country. He planned to bring the ore out the only way possible, on donkey's, but he needed men he could trust to make sure it made it to Weaverville. He had offered Heath a good amount of money to straw boss the men so to speak. Heath had turned him down, but had left the avenue open since Huckmeister would not be leaving for another two weeks. That two weeks was up tomorrow, and Huckmeister had approached Heath yesterday when they had been in town picking up the feed.

He had told the insistent man that he had a job, but that if he changed his mind he would meet Huckmeister to catch the North bound train at six o'clock in the morning on the day of departure. At the time he had told himself that he was just salving the old man's feelings, letting him down gentle like. Instead he figured that he had been hiding what he knew to be true from himself. He had known even then that he would need to go. He had known since the dinner party, when Don Garcia had spoken so calmly of the value of bloodline, and had seen the way that Nick looked at Maria. It wasn't that she wasn't worth looking at. She was a mighty fine young woman, and she reminded him of Lupe, the Mexican girl he had known and loved for a while when he had been in Mexico. The two women's stations in life could not have been more different, but their hair, skin and eyes were all the same. Lupe had been more…..worldly, and in her brown eyes there had been a knowledge that might never come to Maria unless she suffered a complete reversal of fortune. And that wasn't likely to happen the way Nick had been looking at her.

In the time that Heath had been on the ranch he had come to get a fine reading on his brother's character. One of the things he had first noticed was that once Nick decided he wanted something, then he damn well was gonna have it one way or the other. His brother didn't take 'no' for an answer. As far a Heath was concerned, what Nick wanted was Maria, and the fact that there was an inconvenient bastard hanging around was just an obstacle to be pushed aside like so much garbage. Oh, Nick would go along with the family in offering him something he was sure, even Nick knew that Victoria Barkley expected him to do what was right at all times, no matter what he might think personally, but it would be only a gesture for her sake. The other thing that Heath knew about Nick was how happy he would be to see Heath go. Heath had to smile at himself when he thought about that. In the last few months there had been several times when he had thought about leaving, but had not done so out of what his mama would have called pure contrariness. He wouldn't leave because it would have given Nick too much satisfaction. But a change had come over him in the last while. He had come to realize that what Nick wanted had come to be important to him, too. He wanted Nick to be happy. He wasn't sure when exactly that had happened. He knew though, that just as with the other members of the family, he would do anything that he could to make Nick happy. And marrying Maria was going to make Nick happy.

Sitting there against the tree Heath shook his head. It didn't need looking at again. It was a simple thing. Nick, the family, needed him to be gone. Out of sight, out of mind. It wouldn't go away overnight, but when it became clear that he wasn't coming back it would quiet down, and after not too long there would be some other scandal, and everyone would forget. Time healed all wounds they said, and in the end the wound he had caused on the Barkley name would be gone. The Don could have no further objection to the marriage, and things would be as they were supposed to be. He wasn't gonna stand in the way.

He stood and went back to mount Gal. If he pushed it he could finish this whole section. It would be one less thing to do, and since Nick would be one man short, he would appreciate that. Heath reined Gal over gently, and set her on the path paralleling the fence. He could at least enjoy this last day on the ranch he had come to love. Tonight he would enjoy the plentiful and delicious dinner that Silas would prepare. Afterwards they would all go into the parlor and he would play some checkers with Audra, and maybe some pool with Jarrod. He would sit at Mrs. Barkley's side and read another chapter in that book that he would never finish now. Oliver Twist it was. He was sorry he wouldn't know how it ended. The boy was in a bad spot now with the Fagin character. And that Bill fella, he was a bad one. You could see that right off. Nick would pretend he wasn't there, like normal. Later he would go up to that small room that had been the first one he had ever had all to himself, and the soft feather bed that was like sleeping on a cloud. In the morning he would get up like regular around four or so, take his saddlebags out to the barn and saddle up Gal, and then come in and have some breakfast in the kitchen with Silas. Then he would go, taking only his memories. It was a pattern he had repeated over and over in his life. He didn't know why he had thought that it would change now.

**Chapter 9**

Nick rode along the path to Don Garcia's ranch and let the events of the last several days go through his mind. The killing of the bull was never far from his mind, and he still could hear Don Garcia saying that the Barkley blood was pure, and that his and Maria's children would be good. He hadn't liked how Garcia insinuated that being born out of wedlock by necessity made you bad. He had known several men who were bas…he found himself suddenly reluctant to say the word. When had that happened? The Lord knew he had thrown it at Heath a couple of times, and it hadn't rattled him then. He felt that sense of shame rise in him again as he thought about that. He hadn't really thought about how words could wound.

Now he had to decide what he was going to do if, as he suspected, Don Garcia had gotten wind of Heath's parentage. Not that it was any of his business. Nick reminded himself. It was Barkley business, and the only ones that had any say in the matter was the family. Nick suddenly pulled Coco to a stop. The Barkley's had already had their say in the matter, he realized. Everyone but him had voted for Heath to stay. Therefore, no matter what Garcia might say, Heath was a permanent fixture at the ranch, and for some reason, Nick found himself liking that idea more than he ever thought he would. The old man was just going to have to deal with it. Nick had, and it looked like he had finally reached some form of acceptance. The old man would too.

Nick continued down the path, and was soon riding into the ranch yard. It was quiet, with all the hands out on the range no doubt, as it should be back at the Barkley ranch. That thought made Nick remember how he had found that Heath had already ridden out that morning, sometime during breakfast. He had been seen by one of the hands heading west, and Nick supposed he had gone off to ride the western fence line, as had been the plan. He had regretted not getting to speak to the boy, but maybe it was for the best given the circumstances. He swung down from Coco, and tied the reins loosely around the hitching rail in front of the house. There was plenty of shade, and this early in the day the heat had not yet built up. The horse would do well here, and be near at hand if Nick needed to make a quick exit. He wondered briefly why he was planning such an exit, but decided not to examine that thought too closely.

The servant let him in as usual and led him to Don Garcia's study. Another stray thought reminded Nick that if Don Garcia had his way this would be his study. He snorted quietly to himself, as if that was going to happen. He found himself getting into what Jarrod always called his 'defiant' mood. His elder brother claimed that whenever Nick was in this mood that he might as well talk to a brick wall since Nick was not going to be swayed by any argument no matter how practical or logical. Nick preferred to think of it as being steadfast in his decisions. He stood as Don Garcia entered the room and sat again as the older man waved him back to the chair.

"I am sorry for the tone of the summons I sent to you Nicholas, but a matter has come to my attention that I feel must be addressed immediately." Don Garcia said with no preamble. He seated himself behind the big desk, and sat forward toward Nick. "Constanza was in town last night, in a saloon, and he heard a rumor. A rumor that I am sure cannot be true. It is unthinkable for any family of the standing that yours has attained to allow such a thing. Always there are ugly rumors spread by the envious against those that have more. I am sure that this is one such rumor."

Nick shifted in his chair. He didn't doubt what Constanza had heard, but he had to ask anyway. "And what exactly did this rumor have to say about my family, Don Garcia?"

"It was said that your younger brother, the one called Heath, is not your full brother, but a….a….product of a sinful act between your father and a woman not his wife." Nick could see the disgust in Garcia's face at the thought. "A whore in a mining town." Garcia sprang to his feet and started to pace. "There are needs a man has, that I understand. But to accept the results of such a thing into one's house….it is unthinkable." He spun to face Nick "This is how I know it must be a rumor No man of the standing of your father would do such a thing. No woman of class, no good Christian woman, such as your mother, would accept such a …a.. an animal into her home, near her daughter, her children. Your brother, a lawyer of much repute, would never allow such things, and I am sure that you would never allow one such as that to claim any part of your ranch. This rumor must be stopped immediately."

Nick sat in the chair staring at Garcia for several moments, the words echoing in his head, 'product of a sinful act', 'no good Christian woman', 'a lawyer of much repute'. They spun in his mind like a dust devil dancing across the range in the late summer heat. The man had managed to insult just about every member of his family in that one sentence, and he was now waiting for Nick to refute the 'rumor'. He shook his head. "And what if I told you that this rumor might not be a rumor?" he asked, meeting Garcia's dark eyes.

The older man shook his head and waved a hand in that slicing motion that Nick had seen him use to cut off Constanza. "Are you saying that these lies are the truth, that the man I dined with, that I allowed my daughter to speak with as a future brother is a ……" he stopped short of using the word, but Nick could hear it anyway. He was becoming very tired of that word.

"Illegitimate. The word is illegitimate." Nick suggested with a growl, and rose to his feet, where he towered over the older man. "And for your information, my mother, who is the finest, classiest, most Christian woman in this whole state, insisted that Heath be allowed to stay in her home. My brother, who is a very good lawyer, also insisted that Heath stay, and has filed papers legally changing his name to Barkley. My sister and my other brother Gene also agreed that he should stay and they enjoy his company. My family has decided that Heath is entitled to an equal share of the ranch and all the Barkley assets, just like the rest of us. So, if that is the gist of the rumor that Constanza heard, then yeah, it's the truth." He said firmly, ignoring his own attitude about his brother for the last months, it didn't matter now, not in the face of this. No one, not even the father of the woman he wanted to marry, was going to make less of a member of his family, even if he himself wasn't quite ready to welcome that member with open arms.

"So you are saying that you agree that this……man should be allowed to move among us. To associate with my daughter, with decent people?"

Nick barely kept his anger in check, but he forced it down, thinking who this man was. "What I'm telling you," He ground out through clenched teeth. "Is what my family has decided. What you or anyone else thinks about it really doesn't matter. It's a private matter for my family only."

"No, Senor. It is not just for your family because you would bring my daughter into contact with this man. Your shame will be come her shame, and her shame mine. There are people that will not speak to her, because she is married into a family that has done such an unthinkable thing. Is this what you want for my daughter, for your wife?" Garcia demanded.

"What I want for Maria has nothing to do with my brother! I want her to be my wife, and that has nothing to do with anything else." Nick said.

"I disagree. You would not allow your sister to marry into a family that would do her harm. Why would you expect me to allow my daughter to marry into your family where her reputation will be harmed? You do not lay down with dogs without arising with fleas my young friend. You will have to learn that the hard way it seems." Garcia said, returning to his seat.

"So what are you saying?" Nick demanded, staying on his feet and crossing his arms across his chest.

Garcia steepled his hands in front of him, he raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought it was clear. I will not allow my daughter to be allied with a family that could allow such a thing."

"You won't allow!" Nick growled, moving forward to lean part of the way across the big desk. "That's something between me and Maria. She's 21, and that makes her legally able to make her own decision. If she decides she don't want to marry me that is one thing, but you don't get no vote."

Don Garcia was back on his feet. "Maria will do what I say! She is my daughter."

"I think we should get her in here and ask her what she thinks." Nick suggested. AS he did so the door to the study opened and Maria rushed in.

"Your voices can be heard all through the house. Must you yell like drunken cowboys on Saturday night? What is going on?" she asked, looking from Nick to her father.

"This is not your concern Maria." Her father said, coming around from behind the desk and taking her arm. He started to lead her back toward the door. Nick stepped in front of them, stopping their progress.

"Your father thinks that he can make a decision about who you can and can't associate with, and who you will and won't be marrying. I say it's up to you. What do you say?" he asked.

She looked again from her father to Nick. "What is going on? What is this all about? Papa?" She entreated him.

"There are some people that you should not associate with. You are aware of this. I brought you up to understand the importance of bloodlines and the honor of a family, of THIS family. You will do as I say in this matter. If the Barkley family will not change their minds, then there will be no wedding."

"But…" Maria started to say, only to be cut off by Nick.

"Are you telling me that you expect me, and my family, to choose between my wife and my brother?" He yelled, not caring that he was in someone else's house.

Before Garcia could answer Maria turned to Nick. "Choose between me and your brother? Why ever would that be necessary? I do not understand?"

Garcia grabbed her arm and dragged her back toward the door. "You do not need to understand. It is not for the ears of one such as you. Well bred ladies do not speak of, or acknowledge, such things." He said, taking her into the hall. Maria heard Nick growl in the study, and he came stomping out after them. He spoke directly to Maria, ignoring Don Garcia's glare.

"I think we better stop this conversation now, before someone says something that can't be taken back." He said, seeing the puzzlement in her eyes. He wanted to tell her what was going on, but could see that Garcia was not going to allow it right then. He would have to figure out a way to speak to her later, alone. He took her free hand and bowed over it, and then with a last glare at Don Garcia he stomped out of the house, barely pausing to take his hat from the servant at the door. He was soon outside and on Coco, heading toward the Barkley ranch. He found that he could not wait to get back on that familiar ground. If any other man had dared to imply that his mother and sister weren't well bred he would have punched them in the nose, regardless of the age difference, but as Maria's father he was giving him more latitude than usual.

As soon as he was out of the ranch yard he spurred Coco in to a canter then a gallop, and soon they were flying across the range, the wind blowing past at fantastic speed, Coco might be getting on in years, but he could still put on the speed. Nick rode for almost ten minutes, then mindful of the horse's needs pulled him down to a walk. Coco snorted in consternation at being held back, but after dancing around finally started forward again. Nick realized where his hasty ride had led him, and he was soon tying Coco to the small white fence that ringed the grave of Thomas Barkley. He strode to a point where he was standing at the end of the grave, looking at the headstone. He stood there, arms crossed on his chest, just staring for long minutes, then let out a gust of air.

"Well you've done it up fine haven't you?" He said, speaking to the headstone. "It wasn't bad enough that you betrayed Mother. Betrayed Jarrod and I. You had to make it so that everyone would be miserable right down the line." He started pacing back and forth in a short path beside the grave, unable to stand still. His mind was spinning. "And then there's him….Heath…….my brother. Look what you did to him. You left him in a mining town with only his mother to raise him. Lord knows what that was like." Nick had been thinking about that recently. He really didn't want to, but his mind seemed determined to imagine what it must have been like. Then there was the report that Jarrod had gotten.

He had refused to read it when Jarrod had first revealed that he had it. Nick had known that Jarrod had read it, and that their mother had too, but he had told himself that he wasn't interested. Whatever that report said, the boy wasn't his brother, wasn't a son of Tom Barkley, wasn't a symbol of the betrayal by the man that Nick esteemed above all others. The boy would be gone soon, Nick would see to that. But as the months went by it became clear that there was a wide streak of stubborn in Heath, and that the family had not changed their minds about the boy. Nick found himself becoming more and more curious about the younger man. Some of the things that Jarrod alluded to, or that brought a sad look to his mother's eyes when they looked on Heath, had made Nick wonder.

Finally about a month ago he had found himself in the study late one night, unable to sleep after a day of tension and fighting with Heath. Jarrod was in San Francisco and everyone else was in bed. He had opened the safe and easily found the file. He had settled in at Jarrod's desk, and had sat for a long time simply staring at the closed file. Finally he had reached out and opened it. Once he had begun reading he hadn't stopped, until he looked up to find that dawn was only two hours away, and his heart was nearly breaking. He wouldn't have wished that childhood on his worst enemy. To think that the boy who faced down his tirades so calmly, who gave as good as he got when it came to fists, had gone through all that……Nick had tried to put it out of his mind, but every time he saw his new brother, something from that report would come back to him. It was disconcerting. Now, faced by the prejudice that his brother had suffered through his whole life, Nick had come to face the man that he had finally come to blame for it all, or at least to face his grave, which was all that was left to him.

"You and his mama didn't think about that did you? When you were breaking your wedding vows. You didn't think about anyone but you. I didn't realize you were such a selfish man. Of course maybe that explains why I'm thinking such selfish thoughts right now. I inherited it from you. Because do you know what I'm thinking father? Can you tell from wherever you are?" Nick asked looking up into the sky. He waved an arm to encompass the ranch around them.

"I'm thinking that even with all this, with everything I have, with everything I've always had, and with everything HE didn't have, I'm thinking that if he just WASN'T here, I could have Maria and everything would be good. THAT'S what I'm thinking, and God does it make me ashamed!" He sank to his knees next to his father's grave, one hand going out to mindlessly clutch at a handful of the grass that grew there. "I want her, like I haven't wanted anyone before," he glanced at the headstone, "Like you must have wanted HIS mother. I want to say the hell with everything else, and just do whatever I have to do to get her. But……that would make me like you!"

He hung his head and stared at the grass for a moment, then looked back up at the headstone, and spoke in a softer tone. "I always wanted to be like you. You were the best: the best rancher, the best husband, the best father, just…the best everything. You were everything I wanted to be, and…….What do you know, here I am being like you. Bet that makes you proud, don't it? But you know what father? I can't just do what you did, and pretend that there wasn't any problem. That HE doesn't exist."

"The rest of the family, they want him….love him. And me…..I….as much as I have fought it, as much as I have fought him, I want him here too. He is your son. I accept that…finally. He deserves part of this, just like the rest of us do, and maybe more since he didn't have what we did growing up. He's a damn fine rancher, maybe one of the best cowboys I've ever seen, and you should see him with horses. He's got the touch with them. He don't think much of me right now. Can't really say I blame him for that." He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh.

"So here I am with a brother that I want to get to know and a woman that I want to make my wife, and there's a possibility that I can't do both. What do I do father? Do I fight for Maria? Defy her father and make her choose between us. Do I tell the family that I can't marry the woman I love because of the choice they, we, made to take in your son, my brother? That would make everyone feel real good wouldn't it?" Nick said, knowing that neither course was open to him. He couldn't hurt Maria by asking her to defy her father, or his family by being so blunt as to come right out and say anything about Heath. He had heard the saying "between a rock and a hard place" before, but had not really understood the implications.

He looked at his father's headstone, and saw no miracle answer there. There was no help to be had here. He would have to solve this on his own. He rose to his feet, brushing off his pants, and with a last glance around went to Coco and mounted. He would go and immerse himself in the work that he had planned to do today. Maybe as he sweated in the sun an answer would come to him as it had in the past. Sometimes just taking your mind off a problem was enough to make you think better. It was something his father had often reminded him when he was trying to solve problems at school or on the ranch. Maybe it would work now. He hoped so.

Many hours later Nick finished brushing Coco and was wondering if he had time for a bath, when he heard a horse in the yard. It was late, and the rest of the hands were already in, and he assumed that heath had come in earlier. Looking out the window he saw Heath dismounting from his little black horse, and leading her to the trough. As Nick watched Heath pumped fresh water into the trough for the horse and then waited while she drank. He looked around, and then squinted up at the sun with a shake of his head. In the predinner quiet of the yard Nick could hear the quiet comment that he was sure meant only for the horse.

"Looks like we're running late little Gal. Not gonna get no bath tonight. Might as well use the trough with you. Cold water is cold water no matter if it's in a fancy bathtub or a horse trough." As Nick watched Heath looked around, obviously not seeing Nick in the darkness of the barn window. The boy took of his old battered hat, Nick found himself wondering why he didn't use the new one that Jarrod had gotten him, and then started unbuttoning his shirt. Nick was about to move on when Heath pulled the shirt off and gave it a shaking, and then laid it over the saddle. He turned toward the trough, and that is when Nick saw them.

White scar tissue criss-crossed the slim back, standing out starkly against the tan of the rest of the skin. This was no casual beating. This was the result of a calculated attempt to peel the flesh off the back of a man, one lash at a time. No, Nick corrected himself, not off a man, off a boy. Nick felt his stomach protest at the sight, and his mind flashed back to the report he had read. Months in Carterson prison at the age of 14, no food, no clean water, death all around, and beatings that had flayed the child's back. Nick tried to remember what he had been doing at fourteen. He could only recall long boring days at school, broken by joyous days spent on the ranch with his father, riding, roping, and learning. No paddling that he had ever earned had hurt him half as much as one of those lashes that had left the scars he knew that. He felt a wetness forming his eyes, and had to blink rapidly. That was his brother out there and he had been beaten so badly that his back still showed the scars 10 years later. And Nick hadn't been there to protect him, or even to comfort him after. He felt an unfamiliar sense of failure wash over him. He knew it was irrational, he hadn't even known about Heath then, but still…

Nick continued watching as Heath finished washing and slipped the shirt back on, then the hat. He knew Heath would be coming in soon, and moved away from the window. He stepped back into Coco's stall, and despite an inquiring look from the gelding started brushing him again. He didn't look around as he heard Heath lead Gal into the barn. He thought he heard a pause in the now familiar step, but Heath was soon leading the small black horse into the next stall. Heath glanced at Nick and nodded in greeting, turning almost immediately to strip off the saddle and blanket from his horse. He did not seem to be inclined to speak, but then he never did. Nick made a show of finishing the brushing and laid the brush down where Heath could reach it, knowing that it would be the next step the boy would take.

Heath looked over at the movement, and caught sight of the brush. He nodded again in acknowledgment, and Nick figured that if there were to be any speech between them at all it would have to be at his instigation. He went and leaned against the edge of the stall, watching as with an economy of effort the boy settled the horse for the night. He was smooth and easy with the horse, and she was soon munching hay from the manger as Heath brushed the dust from her coat. Coco was never so restive, Nick reflected. He cleared his throat, and he saw Heath glance at him again out of the corner of his eye. It was a wary glance, and Nick regretted that.

"You did part of the Western fences today." He asked, trying to make his voice pleasant.

"All of it." Heath said, shortly, not pausing in his brushing.

"All…" Nick started to say in his regular loud voice then stopped as he saw the boy's shoulders tense. He stopped and took a breath. "That's one long day's ride." He said non-commitally, and saw the blue eyes glance his way again. "Nice to have it finished. Is there a lot of work needs done out there?"

The broad shoulders shrugged. "Here and there. I wrote it all down. I'll go over it with Duke tonight after dinner." Heath said. Nick grimaced behind his back. Obviously the boy didn't want to talk with Nick.

"Why don't you tell me now. It's too late for a bath, and too early to go in. Can you recall what needs to be done, or do you gotta look at your notes?" He asked. He was going to get the boy talking if it killed him. He needed to have a normal conversation with his brother. He needed to feel a connection.

This time Heath turned his head and looked at him dead on for a moment before resuming his work. For a minute Nick thought he was going to refuse to talk, then the boy started talking about what needed to be done. Nick was impressed by the amount of detail and the thought that went into it all. In the end, by the time the black horse was completely brushed and all fixed for the night, he knew how much wire and how many posts he would need, and how many men would need to be assigned. As the two men walked toward the house in a companionable silence, he reflected that it was one of the longest, calmest, and most informative conversations he had ever had with his brother. He found himself looking forward to more conversations like it, and hoped that Heath did too.

He was just going to have to find a way to make everything work. He didn't want to give up Maria, and he found himself equally unwilling to give up on this new brother. He had given it a lot of thought through out the day as he worked. He had resolved that he would go back to Don Garcia's house tomorrow, and talk to both Maria, and Don Garcia. Surely once Nick sat down and really explained the situation, how it had been for his father, how it had been for Heath, what an asset the boy would be to the Barkley holdings, Don Garcia would see reason. He was sure that Maria would back him, and surely the old man would not forbid her if she really wanted to marry Nick in spite of it all. With a new sense of having all things under control, Nick reached out and put a hand on Heath's shoulder for a moment, as he might have done with Jarrod or Eugene. He didn't miss the quick almost startled look that came across Heath's face, followed by a small crooked smile. Yes indeed, things were going to work out.

**Chapter 10**

The next morning Heath was up and moving before the sky had even begun to light. Not that it took much effort since he had slept very little. Even that had been shattered by dreams unlike any he had had since he had gotten out of Carterson. For some reason this parting, while simply another in the long list that seemed to be his life, was harder than anything he had ever done. He carefully packed his saddle bags, hesitating over the newer items that had been added to his wardrobe at the insistence of his…. no; he had to stop that thinking…at the insistence of the Barkley family. The hat he left on the top of the bureau. It was like new, and they might even be able to take it back to the store. The outer cloths, pants and shirts he left folded on the bed, they had been worn a lot, and he knew they couldn't go back, but they might be able to donate them, or maybe keep them for a hand that needed them. The rest he reluctantly added to his saddlebags, not that he wasn't glad to have them, but he didn't want anyone to think he had come only for the things.

He really shouldn't concern himself with what they thought about him once he was gone, but he found himself wanting them to think kindly of him, if they thought of him at all. There was every possibility that it would be a case of 'out of sight out of mind'. He was sure that Nick wouldn't waste no time thinking about him. The thought of his brother seemed to conjure up the memory of the day before, and meeting Nick in the barn.

He had been surprised to say the least to find Nick still there in the barn when he returned. He had been late, having pushed himself to make sure the whole length of the western fences was done. It would save time for whomever they hired to do his work. He wasn't gonna be leaving them short handed and over worked if he could help it. He had rode into the yard, and stopped at the trough to water Gal. A glance at the sun had shown him that there was no way he was going to get a bath in, even if Nick had finished with the tub. He had looked around and found himself alone, and had decided that he would wash in the trough. After all cold water was cold water, didn't matter where it was. It was actually rather refreshing as he washed the dirt off his upper body and then slipped back into his shirt. He then led gal into the bar, and was heading for her stall when he saw movement in the stall next to hers. It was Nick, brushing Coco.

He had almost stopped, then had kept going and led the horse into the stall. He had decided to simply go about his work, and assumed that Nick would complete what he was doing and move on himself. However, Nick had come to lean on the wall near him, and they had one of the first civil conversations that they had ever engaged in. Nick had seemed almost…..pleased with his work. It was a new feeling for Heath. No resentment, no anger. He had completed his work on Gal, and they had started for the house together, that is when it had happened.

They had been walking along toward the house pretty much side by side, when all of a sudden Nick had put his hand on Heath's shoulder. It hadn't been an act of aggression or anger. It was a companionable thing, a move he had seen Nick make with Jarrod and Eugene. It was something that he had never imagined Nick doing to him. He had almost flinched from under it, had almost reacted in haste and struck it aside. Instead he stood beneath it, and felt the heavy weight of it, the strength, the …….familiarity. He had never known the touch of any family besides his mother. Even here, only Audra really touched him. She was always holding on to his arm, taking his hand, patting his shoulder. It was her way, open and loving. He had noticed that all of the Barkley's were touchers, sharing a hug, a gentle touch, a pat on the back, but not with him, never with him. He thought that was perhaps his fault. He hadn't exactly been welcoming when it came to much of anything that a normal family did. He knew what it was like to have his mother touch him.

She had loved to run her fingers through his hair and down his neck. He could still remember how she had been so amused when he had shown up after one of his longer absences, spent in the mountains with a trapper, his hair to his shoulders and a thin beard on his cheeks. She had run her fingers through it and told him what a pretty girl he would have made. He thought now that with the long blond hair he had probably looked even more like Audra than he did now. She had cut it for him, and had kept one of the blond locks in her special box.

He hadn't been familiar with the casual touches that a family exchanged, and had been standoffish he was sure. He enjoyed Audra's touches, had come to envy the ease with which the others touched, and hadn't realized how much he had wanted it himself. Now, it had come not from Jarrod, or Eugene, but the one person he would have said would never touch him with anything approaching warmth. Of course, there was a dark side to the whole thing. Here was Nick, finally seeming to come to a point where maybe they didn't need to pound each other to pieces each day, and now he was leaving. Wasn't that just like his luck? Just one more thing to make it even harder to leave than it already was. Fate really had it in for him it seemed. Sometimes when these things happened to him he almost believed all the things people had said about him being the spawn of the devil, the product of sin. He liked to think he was a good man, and it seemed that sometime, somewhere he would get a break.

He shook his head. It wasn't no time to be thinking like that. If he got to feeling sorry for himself he would not be able to do this. It was bad enough that he was sneakin' off like some thief or something. He wasn't gonna sulk about it too. He was a Barkley damn it, even if he would never refer to himself as such again once he left. He would leave with his head held high, and be proud of his blood and his family, and soothe the ache within with the thought that this was what the family needed, what Nick needed. He wrapped the picture of his mother in a piece of soft buckskin and put it in the saddlebags. That being the final item he closed the bags and threw them over his shoulder. He took one last look around the room. He had never had his own before, and things really didn't look to be changing any in the future. He sighed, and turned to the door. He stepped quietly into the hall and closed the door. He went down the sweeping stairs and after picking up his gun and hat from the hall table. He then went into the gunroom and got his rifle out of the cabinet where it rested next to the fancy English guns that Jarrod and Nick favored. They were beautiful weapons, but the old forty-four had kept him alive for years and he trusted it.

He took the rifle and saddlebags out to the barn, where he lit a lantern, keeping the fire low. He saddled Gal who stamped a foot in anger at being wakened so early.

"Getting' soft are ya, Gal? That's gonna have to change," Heath murmured to her as he fastened the cinch. He left it loose, as he was not planning on leaving for at least an hour, and he did not want her to be uncomfortable. He paused before he left, then put a couple of scoops of oats in her manager. She was gonna have to make do with forage from now on, and she might as well have one last good meal out of it. She had gotten fat and sassy, even with the hard work. He was sorry that he had to take her from it. She had given him so many years of devotion, and he had thought that he might be able to give her the quiet retirement that she deserved, but as with his mother it seemed he was going to fail her as well. He left his gun belt and rifle there in the stall, along with his hat. He patted her flank and after blowing out the lamp went back to the house, entering soundlessly through the front and going back upstairs.

He didn't go into his room, that part of his life was closed to him now, but instead went down the back stairs into the kitchen as if he were just coming down for the first time. As he suspected Silas was working in the biscuit dough and humming softly to himself. Heath smiled at the older man and got one in return then went to get himself a cup of coffee. He sat at the table as was his habit, and sipped the coffee watching Silas go about his preparations. When Silas began humming again, Heath found himself humming along, remembering Hannah humming the same tune as she cooked. Once Silas had rolled and cut the dough for the biscuits he put one small pan of them in the oven and set the rest them aside to rise covered by a clean cloth and sat down with Heath with his own cup of coffee.

"You know, me and your daddy used to sit like this some time. Early in the morning when he couldn't sleep no more from worryin' about some thing or the other, back when he was first buildin' this ranch. He would get up so he didn't be disturbin' Mrs. Barkley, what her takin' care of the babies and all, and we would have us some coffee and talk some about what he planned to do. There were some that said he couldn't do it, that he'd go crawling back East, but I knew that he would do it, that they would do it, him and her. They was just that kind of folk." Silas smiled and shook his head in remembrance, then looked at Heath. "You that kind of folk to Heath. What you want to do is what you gonna do. Don't you be letting' no one stop you, even your brother. He'll come around in the end."

Heath nodded, flushing a little at the compliment, but not correcting the older man's supposition about why he was up earlier than usual. He was gonna miss Silas. They had become fast friends, and Heath had come to count on the older man's wisdom, humor, and kindness to salve some of the soul deep wounds he had come here with, and some that he gained while here. If it had not been for Silas, there would have been many more fights with Nick, and with the others that had made his life one form of hell. The old slave had reminded him that there were worse things than words, and that while they hurt, they didn't hurt near as much as some things did.

Silas rose and took the biscuits from the oven putting them in a basket covered with a napkin to keep their heat. He brought them to the table and then brought a small bowl of butter and some honey. The two men helped themselves to a hot biscuit and slathered them with the fresh butter and honey. They were silent as they ate, both enjoying the simple meal. Both had gotten by with far less, and enjoyed what they had all the more for it. When they had eaten all the biscuits Heath rose reluctantly to his feet. He was going to have to get going if he was to make the train. He looked at Silas.

"Won't be here for breakfast Silas. I gotta head to the south range. We're surveyin' the fences and that's the next section. Reckon I should get a good start on it early this morning and then I can be back here for lunch." He said, not meeting the dark eyes. Silas nodded, knowing how Heath was trying to do the work that was needed before Nick mentioned it. He thought it was a good tactic, since Nick respected a good worker. He could only hope that the respect would grow into something more brotherly. He moved quickly to the cutting board where a ham was sitting, waiting to be carved and then fried for breakfast. He cut off two pieces and quickly made two sandwiches with some fresh bread. He wrapped them in some oilcloth and handed them the Heath, The younger man took the bundle and stood looking down at it for several moments, and then looked up, his eyes meeting Silas'.

"Thank you Silas. You take better care of me than anyone since my Mama." He said simply, meaning far more than he could say, and regretting that he could not be honest with the older man. He knew Silas would be hurt at the step he was taking, but he thought he would understand. With a final smile he left the kitchen and headed out to the hall. He stopped and glanced into the parlor, and then slipped into Jarrod's study. Jarrod had been called into Stockton last night, something about a sudden development on a case he was working on. He knew that Jarrod was not due back until tonight some time, and it was unlikely that anyone would be in here until then. Should be plenty of time. He took an envelope out of his vest pocket and lay it on the big desk. The family needed some sort of explanation, and this was all he could think of.

He then went back out and went into the parlor. The soft light from the kerosene lamp that Silas had lit made an island in the room, and shed just enough light to see the picture over the fireplace. Heath stood there, staring up at the huge picture of the man that had been his father, Tom Barkley. Heath could not imagine what the man would have thought about him, or about what he had chosen to do. He had been creating a picture of Tom Barkley in his mind, taken from the stories of his different family members. He had not yet become a 'real' person to him. He was still larger than life, and still was the focus of the anger that burned in Heath's belly, that had burned there since he had first understood the meaning of the word 'bastard'.

"You and me. We sure are a pair ain't we? You hurt your family by goin' off and I hurt them by hangin' round." He observed to the portrait. "They all say that we are a lot alike, our manners, our walk, even the way I laugh, but I gotta tell you I don't see it. There you are all proper and respectable, in spite of it all, and then there's me. I had no part of the doin' but I get to live with the consequences. You'll forgive me if I say it don't seem fair to me." He shrugged. "Don't matter no more I guess though. You're gone and are still the big man in the valley, and I'll be gone. Outta sight, outta mind. That's what they say. You'll get even more respectable and I'll be gone." He turned and headed toward the doorway. Once there he turned and gave a wave of his hand to the portrait. It was perhaps a trick of the light that he swore the picture was frowning all of a sudden.

He gathered up his hat and turned to look around the foyer, the highly polished floor, and the sweeping staircase. It had been the fanciest place he had ever seen when Nick had dragged him in here. Not that he had lots of time to look around then. But since then the fascination had not worn off. It still struck him every time he saw it. Now, looking upon it for the last time he was glad he had been given the chance to see it, now he knew what high class was and that it wasn't just money that made something classy. He put his hat on and started for the door. He stepped outside, and could see that the sun was just now lighting the eastern sky. He would be in Stockton in plenty of time to load Gal on the horse car and join the old miner in boarding the train. Without looking around he pulled the door quietly closed behind him. Taking a deep breath, allowing his eyes to travel over the ranch yard as he did so, he felt the ache building in his chest.

How he was going to miss this ranch, the horses, the land itself. It was everything any ranch hand had ever imagined, and for a time, it had been partly his. He knew that wherever life took him, whatever fate had planned for him, there would be no other place like this. No other place that called to him in such a way. He wanted more than anything to stay, to be a part of it, of them. He closed his eyes for a moment and fought down the little voice that was yelling at him to stay. Then he raised his chin and strode forward, determined to do this in an adult fashion. He could not make the family ask him to leave. They didn't deserve the distress that would cause them. He was quickly in the barn and tightening the cinch on Gal. He had to jab her stomach with his knee to get her to release the breath she was holding. She liked to fool with him sometimes and try to keep him from tightening the cinch far enough. He had seen other horses do it, and knew they could be trained not too, but she seemed to enjoy the game, so he left it be. He put the rifle in the sheath and checked the bedroll and saddlebags. Everything was ready, and he knew that he was just wasting time, not wanting to leave, but he had to go. He led Gal outside the barn, and swung up on her back, disdaining the use of the left stirrup. He sat there looking around one last time in the faint light of the morning, and then turned her head toward the road leading to town. As they moved out of the ranch yard, and he knew that the barns and the distance would muffle the sound, he gave her the signal to move up to a trot and then a gallop. Once again he didn't look back.

It seemed to take him lest time than usual to make it into Stockton, but then, time seemed to be on fate's side this day, determined to make this leaving the worst of those he had endured. He decided to ride around town to the train station, instead of going through. He didn't want to be seen, and while it was not likely that Jarrod was awake and out of his hotel room, there was always the possibility that someone that knew the Barkley's would mention something about seeing his bastard brother taking a train outta town. He had found that while people might disdain his presence, his every action seemed to be fodder for the gossips. Always seemed to him that if they really didn't want to think about him, then they shouldn't oughta talk about him all the time. But that was just him.

He dismounted at the station, and was happy to see Jubal T Huckmeister waiting near the horse car with his burro, Elspeth. The ramp was down, and Huckmeister and the station wrangler were trying to convince the burro that she wanted to get aboard. The animal was having none of it. Heath felt a small smile cross his face. Burros sure had them a mind of their own for all their small size, though Elspeth was large for her breed. Heath led Gal over and captured Huckmeister's attention.

"Heath my boy!" the old man almost yelled. He came over, and grabbing Heath's hand, started pumping it up and down. "Wasn't sure if you was going to make it or not. I done heard that you got you a pretty cushy place with the Barkleys out there." He said. Heath could hear the curiosity in the old man's voice, but also knew that the miner would not be so bold as to ask outright if Heath did not volunteer. It was the way of those that lived in the wild places. A man could keep to himself what he would. Only his actions would speak for him in the end, not his past. Heath shrugged in answer and the old miner nodded in understanding. He waved a hand at the burro.

"Come time we can get Elspeth on board we can load up your horse and get to moving, it being the time and all. Got my horse on already, but Elspeth is having none of it." He said. Heath nodded and led Gal up the ramp with no protest at all. He quickly removed the saddle and put it in the small stall where he knew she would protect it. He took his saddlebags and the rifle with him, and handed them to Huckmeister.

"Let me try my hand at her." He said as the old man looked at him with a frown.

"Good luck to you." Huckmeister said. "She's always stubborn, but she got used to standing in that livery stable, and she is not ready to be going back to walkin' the mountains again." He watched as the younger man approached the burro, ready to laugh as another man fell before her stubbornness.

Heath went over and stood next to the burro. She swung her large head around and looked at him with one mild brown eye. She twitched one of her long ears at him, as if she was willing to listen. He reached out and scratched her between the ears and then down her neck. She leaned a little in his direction. He whispered in her ear, and she shook her head at him. He smiled a little at her, and whispered some more. Finally she gave a nod, and with no lead at all she moved to the ramp and climbed up it fearlessly into the horse car. She looked back over her shoulder at the hostler, who stood at the bottom of the ramp with his mouth hanging open, as if to say "What's the hold up?" The young man shook his head, and went up the ramp himself, and led the burro into the small stall for her. Outside Huckmeister slapped his knee, and then went over and pounded Heath on the back.

"I knew you were a good man when I saw you, boyo, and that cinches it. I never known anyone could sweet talk Elspeth like that. She's a fine judge of character, and if she don't like you, then there's something wrong with you." He crowed. The bell in the train's engine began ringing, a sign that they needed to board themselves. Huckmeister led Heath toward the day car, handing back his saddlebags and rifle.

"We'll be in Redding by night time. Reckon we'll spend the night there and then go on up to Shasta in the morning. I figure we can get the men and mules and be on the way by the end of tomorrow. Course you'll have to find some men. I got me the teamsters I need to move the mules, men I trust, but I didn't know nothing about hiring the guards. I figure that if I'd leave that to someone who knows people a bit better than I do. Don't want to get shot by someone I hired to keep me from it."

"I'll do my best." Heath said. "It might be best to see who we can find in Redding. I know some men from that area; I used to work a ranch in Corning south of there. I know some men that might just be willing to work for you, that we can trust, and they'll know others."

"Sounds good." Huckmeister got on the car and found a seat. Heath sat in the seat opposite, putting his saddlebags and rifle in the rack above the seat. He looked out the window, barely listening as Huckmeister went through what he needed to do before they went back out to his claim. Since it mainly seemed to be shopping for supplies. Heath just nodded in appropriate places as he let his eyes drift down the street. He could not see Jarrod's office from here, but he knew where it was. He had gotten used to this town, had enjoyed some beers in the saloons, had bought supplies in the stores, and had gone to church. He had walked the streets proudly, despite the whispers that sometimes followed him. Here, for the first time in his life he had walked the streets of a town with a name.

He felt a prickle at the back of his eyes, and blinked rapidly, drawing in a lungful of air. He shook his head a little. He wasn't a little boy no more, able to cry out the pain that grew in his chest. He would do this like a man, like a Barkley. His last act as one of them. He had boarded this train as Heath Barkley. Only Heath Thompson would get off in Redding. Heath Barkley would be no more. He would be only a memory in the minds of those into whose lives he had crossed. He didn't expect that he would be fondly remembered by most. He was shaken from his thoughts as the train gave a jolt, and then moved out of the station. The town was quickly behind them, and they moved through the rolling hills that would be their company until they reached Redding where the Siskiyous and the Cascade Range rose on either side of the small town at the end of the northbound line. Huckmeister had become quiet, seemingly happy to slump down and grab a little more shuteye after having gotten up early to catch the train. Heath took one last look back along the line at the rapidly disappearing town, and closed his own eyes. He knew he wouldn't sleep, but this way he didn't have to watch it all go.

**Chapter 11**

Jarrod Barkley had risen at what his brother Nick would have considered the decadent hour of Eight AM, after only six hours of sleep. He had worked into the small hours of the morning, completing a brief for submission to the court this morning. His clerk would have taken care of that, and Jarrod was now sitting at a table in the Cattleman's café, the remains of a large breakfast in front of him, reading the paper. He did not have to appear in court on the matter until tomorrow, and if the brief did its work might not have to appear at all. It suited him, though he loved his work. He finished the last article of interest and folded the paper, laying it beside his empty plate. He then pulled out his wallet and paid his bill, leaving a tip for the waitress. He sauntered out onto the sidewalk, meaning to go to his office, but stopped when he heard his name called. He turned to find Dr Merar, the family physician and friend, approaching. He smiled and waved a hand.

"Doctor," Jarrod observed, " you are out early this morning. Did duty already call?"

"Duty not only called, Jarrod," the doctor replied with a tired smile, "It yelled in a most persistent way. Mrs. Blake had her son at around five thirty this morning, and evidently, not wanting to be left behind her sister, Mrs. Herrald, had hers about thirty minutes ago after several hours in labor. Mother's and children are fine, and I feel as if I haven't slept for a week."

Jarrod patted the doctor's shoulder. "At least you have the satisfaction of bringing a new life into the world, two new lives. I am sure that there are times you are called out in the night for far more depressing reasons. At least these were joyous occasions."

The doctor nodded. "Indeed, you are right. There are far worse reasons for a doctor to be called out. Speaking of which, I have not been out to your place for several weeks now. I was beginning to think that your brothers were going to keep me busy traveling out there on a regular business, it seems that while Heath is lately come to the name he is as rambunctious as your brother Nick, and as accident prone." He kidded gently. He had been one of the first to know who Heath was, and to accept him as such.

Jarrod smiled. "I'm afraid my brothers will always be on the edge of disaster, Doctor. It seems they are happiest when they are pushing beyond the bounds of what the rest of us consider the norm."

"The same can be said for most of the great men of the past." Merar observed. "We would not be where we are today without such men." He and Jarrod started walking down the street, Merar's house and office being in the same direction as Jarrod's office. They nodded to mutual friends as they walked. "I was going to speak to your brother this morning as a matter of fact. I have enjoyed my previous talks with him, though I must admit drawing him into conversation is difficult at best. It is sometime difficult to believe that he and Nick share the same blood, being so different in that aspect as they are. I must admit that I was surprised at his level of knowledge in terms of frontier medicine as I have heard it called. He also seems quite versed in the use of herbs. I always enjoy learning new things, no matter what the source."

"I don't understand." Jarrod said. "You saw Heath this morning? Was he at the store getting supplies?" Merar had come from the direction of the feed store down near the train station. Jarrod could not think of any other reason that Heath would be in town so early.

"No. He was here much earlier. It must have been around six as I was on my way to the Harrald's place. Yes, it must have been almost exactly six as it was the northbound train he was getting on. Didn't you know he was leaving?"

Jarrod's mind was whirling in confusion. Why was Heath getting on a train? His brother had not mentioned any kind of trip in his future, and as far as he knew there was no cattle or horse-buying trip in the offing. What could have happened last night after he left that would have required Heath to leave so quickly? He looked at Merar with a frown. "I'm afraid I didn't know." He replied. "Obviously something has come up. Perhaps Heath got a telegram from a friend needing help. He was working at a ranch near Corning before he came to us, and I know he had friends there." It seemed a logical conclusion., and seemed to satisfy the physician, even if Jarrod found it troubling. He took his leave from the doctor when they reached his office and went inside.

His clerk was already there, and he assured Jarrod that the brief had been filed. The judge had promised to issue a decision regarding the new information by the end of the day. Jarrod nodded distractedly at the news and entered his office. He sat behind his desk and looked blankly at the papers there. He could not work. He needed to know what was going on. He rose to his feet and took his hat off the rack. His clerk looked at him in surprise as he came out of his inner office.

"I have to run out to the ranch. I'll be back as soon as possible. I don't think I have any appointments that can't be put off. See to it would you?" he said as he passed through the outer office and out the door. In a matter of minutes he had gotten Jingo out of the livery and was headed for the ranch at a canter. The trip seemed to take longer than usual and he was soon in sight of the large house. He rode into the yard, and yelled for Ciego, who came out of the barn.

"Ciego. Did you see my brother Heath this morning? Did he go out with one of the crew, or with my brother Nick?" he asked the hostler. The Mexican shook his head.

"I did not see Senor Heath this morning. He went out before the rest."

Jarrod tossed Jingo's reins to Ciego. As he strode toward the house he drew his watch from his pocket and checked the time. It was almost ten thirty. If Merar had seen Heath boarding the six o'clock train, then his brother was well past Sacramento by now, and almost to Willows or even Corning. The question he needed answered was, why? He went through the big door, and in the tradition of his brother tossed his hat on the table and yelled.

"Mother! Audra! Silas!" His voice echoed through the house. The first person to appear was Audra at the top of the stairs. She smiled down at her brother.

"I thought it was Nick for a moment. Now I know where he got it from." She said in a teasing manner. Her smile faded as Jarrod looked up at her and frowned. "Jarrod what is it?" before he could answer Victoria and Silas appeared in the doorway leading to the dining room.

"Jarrod. Have you been taking lessons from your brother? There are better things to learn, I assure you." His mother said. She then caught sight of the _expression on his face. "What is going on Jarrod? Is it Eugene?" she asked, knowing he was in town, and thinking he had gotten some news from Berkley. He shook his head, not wanting her to worry unnecessarily.

"No, I didn't hear from Eugene. Do you know where Heath is?" he asked.

"Heath?" His mother asked. She came up to him in a swish of skirts. Audra had come down the stairs to stand on his other side, and Silas was hovering to the side. "What about your brother?"

"I need to know where he is. Is he on the ranch?" he asked again, not wanting to alarm them if they didn't already know that Heath had taken the train.

"Jarrod you are hiding something. Why do you want to know about your brother?" Victoria demanded, reading her son's eyes easily after so many years of practice. Jarrod reached over and took her arm.

"Please Mother, do you know where Heath is?" he said, not answering the question. His felt a fear growing within him, and tried to keep it from showing to his mother's discerning eyes.

She shook her head. "No, I don't know where he is. He started early this morning before breakfast. Silas, where did you say he was working?" she asked the houseman.

"Mr. Heath, he said that he was goin' to the south pastures today to check the fences. Said he wanted to get an early start and that he should be in for lunch since he was missin' breakfast." Silas replied, wringing the towel he held in his hands. He knew that something was wrong. Something with Heath.

Victoria looked from Silas to Jarrod, and saw something flash in the blue eyes of her son as he heard what Silas said. She could only call it sadness. She felt an empty feeling in her stomach. She clutched Jarrod's arm drawing his attention to her.

"Where is your brother Jarrod?" she asked flatly. He sighed.

"I don't know for sure, but I believe that he is on the northbound train that left Stockton this morning at 6:00 am. My source is rather reliable." He said. He heard Audra cry out in the negative, but his focus was on his mother.

"Your source?" Victoria inquired in a thin voice. He noticed that her grip on his arm had gotten almost painful.

"Dr. Merar saw him getting aboard the train this morning. He happened to mention it in passing when we met this morning. I admit I was at something of a loss. I take it you don't know anything about this?"

"No." Victoria said. "No, I can definitely say I knew nothing about this." A look at Audra's face assured both of them that her answer was the same, and Silas was shaking his head. "Silas. Please go upstairs and check Heath's room. Audra. Will you go into the gunroom and see if his rifle is there. He hasn't been taking it with him every day for some time now. I had taken that as a sign that he was becoming more comfortable here. Perhaps I was incorrect." She took a small wisp of a handkerchief from her sleeve and wrung it in her hands, the only outward sign of the inner upset. Audra returned from the gunroom, and her tears were all the answer they needed about her mission. She buried her head against Jarrod's chest and sobbed quietly. Victoria's hand trembled on his arm. Silas came down the stairs, and they could see the sorrow in his eyes.

"All his new things is on the bed, all laid out real neat. Only the things he brought with him when he come are gone, along with his picture of his mama." Silas said. He looked on the edge of tears himself. Jarrod felt his mother sway, and he put his free arm around her shoulders, offering her what support he could. He led the two women into the parlor and sat them on the settee where they clung to each other. Audra sobbed openly, while Victoria held her daughter and stared unseeingly at the wall. Jarrod went to the tantalus and poured two small brandies. It was way too early for such things, but he felt they would be the better for it. He waited until the two had pulled apart then handed each a glass. He went back and poured himself a scotch. Silas had disappeared back to the kitchen, where Jarrod was sure he was dealing with his own pain.

He sat in one of the chairs facing the settee and sipped his drink while his mother and sister sipped theirs. Audra could not keep her tears contained, and the tears dripped down her face until her mother handed her the small handkerchief. Finally Victoria looked at Jarrod.

"Why? Why would he go in such a way? We have offered him everything. Everything that you children have he had, the name, the property, the money. What more could we have offered him?" She asked him.

He shook his head. "I don't think it was that mother. Heath gave me every reason to believe that he was more than satisfied with what was given him, perhaps even overwhelmed with the amount of it. If anything it was too much. He would have been happy just to have a place here I think, working on the ranch, being here in the house with us. If he never saw a penny from any of it, I think he would have been happy." He said thoughtfully. "He was telling the truth when he said he didn't want our money that first night. I think that having us accept him into the family was all he ever wanted. Why he would go like this I….."

"Maybe this will answer the questions." Came Silas' voice from the doorway. He stood there with an envelope in his hand. Jarrod rose and went to him, taking the envelope and looking in question at the houseman. "It was in the study on your desk. I figured that Mr. Heath wouldn't be leavin' with out sayin' somethin' to you all. He was HAPPY here. Like he had never been happy someplace before. He belonged, that was all he ever wanted. It ain't right that he had to leave."

"I agree Silas. But if Heath left it wasn't by our request." Jarrod said and went back to the chair. He noticed that the envelope was addressed to him in Heath's small but precise writing. He recalled how he said that his aunt Rachel had taught him his letters, making sure he did them right, but since they didn't have much paper he learned how to write small and never really got over the habit. He exchanged glances with his mother and opened the envelope disappointed to see it held only one small piece of paper from the small notebook that Heath carried everywhere. Of course being a man of few words, it was as if Heath would now leave a long letter of explanation.

He removed it from the envelope and after a quick look at the contents he began to read it out loud. "Jarrod," he read. "Sorry to leave like this. I think you will understand that this is best, and can tell the others. I can't let my past ruin Nick's future, or destroy any of your lives. I didn't think about it before I came. I was used to it, and didn't count the cost. Now I see that it is too high. I thank you all for the kindness you have shown me. Heath." He sat staring at the note when he finished reading it then raised his eyes to meet the shocked eyes of his sister and mother. Audra's blue eyes instantly filled with tears, and with a sob she rose from the settee and ran up the stairs. The sound of her door slamming behind her echoed through the house. Victoria watched her go then turned her gray eyes back to Jarrod. Who was looking at the note again.

"Do you know what he means when he says he can't ruin Nick's future?" she finally asked. Jarrod pretended not to notice when her voice quavered slightly.

He shook his head. "No. I think we're going to have to ask Brother Nick that question. From what Heath says I have a suspicion it has something to do with the people that can't or won't forget the circumstances of his birth. I know that I don't have to tell you that there have been some that won't accept him. Some to the point that they have ceased to do business with us all together."

"Yes. I am aware of those people." She said simply. He knew that she had lost three old friends, woman that she had considered close, when word had gotten around that they had accepted Heath into the family. They had publicly snubbed her in the church and had privately refused to speak with her. "However. I thought that we had made it clear to Heath that such people were of no consequence, and that we remained sure of our decision to include him in the family."

"I….think that Heath had another opinion about the consequence of those people. He may have heard it all his life, but I think that he didn't really start listening to it until he came here. I think that every word said to us hurt him more than any ten said to him. Evidently it reached a critical point."

"Yes. I think you could say that." Victoria said. She rose to her feet and went to stand by the window, looking out on the yard. "He was happy here. I would have sworn…." She started. Jarrod went to stand behind her, and she leaned back against his chest. He felt the trembling in her small frame.

"He was, mother. I would swear to that myself. Despite everything I could see it in him. He wanted to be here, wanted to work the ranch, to be part of the family, wanted it with a depth of desire that I have seldom seen in anyone. I can only think that he did this out of the depth of his love for us; thinking that it was, as he said, the best thing to do."

She shook her head. "Where ever he has gone we must get him back, as soon as possible. If we let him go with no protest, he will take it to mean that we agree with his supposition, and he will never come back. He's very like his father that way. I saw it in him from the start. Once he sets his mind to a course of action he will not be stopped. You and Nick are the same, as is Audra to some degree. It is a quality that helped your father build all this, and in the end it got him killed. It is both a virtue and a curse, and I believe if we allow it, Heath will be lost to us. I will not allow that." She spoke the last with all the strength of will that Jarrod was familiar with. He leaned down and kissed the top of her silver head, and smiled against her soft hair. Tom Barkley wasn't the only source for their determination. He straightened away from her.

"I think it is time to consult with Brother Nick. I'll send a man to find him." He suited act to words and went outside to find one of the hands who rode out after Nick who was working in the orchards today. When he came back inside he found Victoria coming down the stairs.

"I gave your sister a headache powder. I think she'll sleep for a while. As upset as she is, I believe it is for the best. When she awakens we should have some explanation, or at least a plan." She went back into the parlor and sat down. Jarrod could see that she had regained her own equilibrium. She cocked her head and gave Jarrod a sharp look. "Do you believe that Nick has actively encouraged Heath to leave?" she asked the question that Jarrod had been asking himself.

Jarrod sighed and went to sit next to her. "I don't want to think so. I would have said that Nick was coming around. That he was beginning to see the value of having Heath here, maybe even coming to like him. Just the other night, I thought that I saw a change in how he treated Heath. He actually spoke TO him instead of AT him. But there have been incidents…"

"I know." Victoria agreed. "I do not wish to believe it either. Whatever Heath meant by not ruining Nick's future, that is the key. For all that Heath has met Nick on his own terms, blow for blow when necessary," she said with displeasure, "I know that he almost desperately wanted to have Nick's acceptance. He has revealed himself to be the type of man who would sacrifice for any of us I think he would have done it more quickly for Nick. I have wondered why Nick couldn't see it."

"He didn't want to see anything good about Heath. And as you know when brother Nick puts his mind to something it gets done."

"His focus for the last several months has been to drive Heath away." She observed.

Jarrod found himself in agreement, but he felt he had to defend his brother. "His method has been quite different though, and I might add, ineffective. As you say Heath has met him on that ground with no problem. He was prepared to fight for what he wanted. What has driven him away was something else all together. As determined as Nick is, he is not exactly the subtlest of men, and I do not think that he could have used Heath's growing devotion in this way. I also prefer to think that my brother could not use something against another brother like that."

They heard the pound of hooves in the yard, and Victoria glanced at the windows. "It seems we are about to find out if you are right." They waited for Nick to enter.

**Chapter 12**

Nick straightened from where he was digging a reservoir around the base of a peach tree, and watched a rider approaching from the direction of the ranch. He stretched his back, and leaning the shovel against the tree, he wiped the sweat from his brow with one black clad arm. It was hot, and it looked to be getting hotter. Irrigation to these trees was going to be very important, and he wanted to be ready when the time came. He was aware that he was using the work to avoid thinking about his conversation with Garcia yesterday, but he was not yet ready to think about what he was afraid was going to happen. His positive outlook from the day before had faded to something that he was afraid was closer to reality.

He suspected that if he were to put the question to Maria he would not like the answer that he would receive. He thought about how things had been since he had first decided to ask for her hand, and how the actual proposal had gone. It had not been she who had the final say, despite her rapid answer to him. She had told him outright that he needed to get her father's approval, though she had indicated that she did not think he would disagree. Now that he thought about it, he had the distinct impression that that she and her father had already discussed the issue, and that she had just been waiting for him to make his move. He didn't like to think that he had been maneuvered into making an offer for her, but it seemed to be the case. He knew that Garcia was not above thinking of the whole thing as a business merger, but he had not really thought that he would sacrifice his daughter in the name of profit and power. Why it was almost like the old time when a woman was shipped off to marry the son of some enemy to stop the fighting, or like some princess being married off to some prince to consolidate lands into a larger kingdom. Nick had read about such things in the history books, but had not thought it was anything that happened in the modern world.

A woman had raised him that no one could have considered mere chattel. Victoria Barkley, like so many frontier women, was a full partner to her husband, doing many of the same jobs, and raising children while doing them. Despite initial disapproval from her parents regarding her choice of a husband she had worked alongside Tom Barkley until his death, a driving factor in the building and continued success of the ranch and all their endeavors. Nick now found it disturbing to think that the woman that he had chosen to be his wife was not made of the same stuff. Of course, he had not yet had the opportunity to ask her outright. He could be reading the situation wrong. He needed to give her the benefit of the doubt. He owed her that.

The rider came to a stop not far from Nick and he could see that it was Billy Hardin who was supposed to be doing the daily ranch yard chores today. Obviously, something was up/Nick stepped forward. "Billy, what you doing out here?" he asked.

"Your brother sent me out Mr. Barkley." Billy said as he dismounted.

"Heath? I thought he was riding the south pasture fences." Nick said, not realizing that he had just acknowledged that he considered Heath his brother. The men who had been working with him, who had stopped work and gathered nearby, didn't miss it however, and they exchanged glances. There had been a lot of speculation about when, or if, Nick would accept the newest Barkley as the rest of his family did, and it looked like the time had come. Looked like a little money was gonna change hands in the bunkhouse come payday.

"No, not Heath." Billy said. "Jarrod. He came out of the house, and I could tell he was pretty upset about somethin'. He said I should come out and get you as soon as possible."

Nick frowned. Jarrod was supposed to be in town until tonight, why was he at the ranch, and what was so urgent that he needed Nick to come back in. "Did he send someone for Heath too?" He asked Billy as he started toward where Coco was tied.

"No sir. Just sent me after you and went back inside." The hand reported. Nick mounted up and turned Coco toward the ranch. Billy mounted and followed along behind. It didn't take them long to get back to the ranch, and Nick handed Coco over to Ciego.

"I'll be going back out, Ciego. Just water him and loosen the cinch. Once I get this straightened out, what ever this is, I can get back to work." Nick said and strode off toward the house. He swept his hat off as he pushed open the door.

"Jarrod! Mother!" He called out in his usual manner, and his mother appeared in the door to the parlor almost immediately. She seemed pale to Nick, and he stepped forward, ignoring her plea to lower his voice. "Mother, what is it. You aren't looking well. Is something wrong with Audra , or Eugene?" He asked, thinking suddenly that maybe Jarrod had gotten a telegram from their younger brother. His mother shook her head and led him into the parlor with a hand on his arm. He noticed that she was carrying a handkerchief , and that as she released his arm she began twisting it between her hands. Instead if sitting down she went to the window and stood looking out. Nick looked from her to Jarrod who was seated in one of the chairs. "What the hell…" he glanced at his mother who did not seem to notice his cursing. "What's going on?" he asked his brother. Jarrod looked at their mother, then turned cold blue eyes on Nick. Eyes that Nick had only seen before when Jarrod was very upset, or when he was questioning a witness that he knew to be lying. Those eyes were weapons, and Nick had seldom seen them turned on him. All the more puzzled, he looked back at his mother, who was staring out the window, as if neither son was in the same room. Jarrod rose to his feet, drawing Nick's attention back to him. He came to stand almost toe-to-toe with Nick.

"Nick," he said seriously. 'Mother and I need you to answer a question, and we need you to be honest with us."

"What, like I'm not honest with you the rest of the time?" Nick asked, offended.

"I'm not saying that Nick. Just that you may not think of it in the same way we do." Jarrod replied.

"What are you talking about Jarrod? What's going on?"

"We need to know if you said something to Heath. If you told him that he was ruining your future. That it would be better for everyone if he left." Jarrod quit beating around the bush and came right out with it. He saw surprise in the hazel eyes, then there was a flash of something else just before the dark head went down and the eyes were hidden, and with a sinking feeling he realized that Nick knew what he was talking about. "My God, Nick. What did you do?" he whispered.

Nick's head snapped back up. "I thought a man was innocent until proven guilty counselor!" He growled, and was about to say more when their mother stepped between them. She placed a hand on the chest of each of her sons.

"Stop. We are not making any accusations. We are only trying to find out what has caused this…" she started, but Nick's patience was at and end, and he cut her off.

"Caused what? What is it that has you both all wound up? Did Heath say I said something to him? Where is he? Let's hear what he has to say. He hasn't had any trouble saying something to my face before." He said firmly, crossing his arms across his chest. He was sure that this was all some misunderstanding. He must have said something that Heath misunderstood. He was still unsure with his newest brother, and maybe he had made a misstep where he had only intended to grow closer. He saw a look of sadness cross his mother's face, a sadness unlike any he had seen since his father had died. What was going on?

Jarrod stepped away from his mother and went toward the fireplace. He spun back around to face Nick, and the rancher could see that the attorney was gone, but the sadness was still there. "We would like to be able to talk to him Brother Nick. But that's the problem you see. He's not here to talk to. Dr. Merar saw him getting on the six o'clock train headed North out of Stockton this morning. Heath has packed his things, leaving almost everything that was purchased for him I might add, and left a note saying that he was leaving for good. Supposedly he took this step so that he, and I quote, would not ruin YOUR future, or that of the rest of us. Now you'll forgive me for sounding accusing Brother Nick, but it seemed to me that you might just have an idea what I meant when I said that. Would you care to explain it to us?"

Nick could only stare at his brother as the words sank into his head. He could not have heard correctly. Heath was riding the fences on the south side of the ranch. He could not be on a train leaving Stockton, leaving the ranch, leaving the family….leaving him. Dr Merar must have made a mistake. Then he realized that Jarrod had said that Heath's things were gone, and that there was a note. "A note?" he managed to croak out. "There was a note?"

Jarrod wordlessly pulled the small piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Nick. He was beginning to wonder if his first reaction had not been wrong. He was still sure that Nick knew something, but the fact that Heath had left had hit Nick hard, and that was not a false reaction. Nick looked a the small piece of paper in his hand, and felt a jolt of recognition. This was a page from Heath's notebook. The one that he always used. Just like the one that he had used last night to give Nick an idea of what needed on the West side fences.

He and Heath had been in the study, with a map spread out on the big desk. Heath had laid out his notebook along side the map, and had turned from page to page as they scanned down the boundary line. IN the end he had taken out the pages and given them to Nick. It had been the first time that they had truly worked on anything together, and it had felt….good. Nick had been surprised at how easy they had worked together. Surprised and gratified. For so long he had worked the ranch alone, and he was only now realizing how the weight had sat on his shoulders. It was like a man who had been blind who was suddenly able to see. It had been a …revelation. Now, Heath was gone. He unfolded the page, and read the few lines. It was a short and succinct note. He would not have expected any more from his quiet brother.

"I can't let my past ruin Nick's future." The words jumped off the page at him, and seemed to sear into his brain. Then the last words were like a second blow, "I thank you all for your kindness." What kindness had he shown his brother? What sign had he given him that he, Nick Barkley, wanted him to be there? In any way had he told his brother about the plans he had started to make in his head, plans for the ranch, plans for the two of them working side by side? He raised his eyes to meet Jarrod's.

"Are you…" he had to stop as his voice broke. "Are you sure it was Heath that Dr. Merar saw? It could have been some other blond cowhand, and Heath is just in town or something."

"I don't think so Nick. The Doctor is well familiar with Heath, and there was more than enough light to see by so that a case of mistaken identity is unlikely. Given that he must, or rather that he should, have known that we would make an effort to retrieve him if he were to stay in town, I tend to believe that the Doctor saw who and what he said he saw." Jarrod said. He was now seeing that whatever Nick knew about this whole matter, he had not planned the effect of driving Heath out. "Nick, what do you know about what Heath is saying in the note? That he doesn't want his past to ruin your future. What does it mean?"

Nick numbly handed the note back to his brother and went to lean an elbow on the mantel. He put his hand to his forehead and rubbed where a headache had suddenly appeared. He suddenly felt a small hand touch his back, and he lowered his hand to meet his mother's gray eyes. He sighed. "I know what he meant, but I didn't ask him to go if that's what you want to know." He said to his brother's question. He couldn't even get enough energy up to sound offended at the supposition that his brother had made. He really could not blame Jarrod for making that assumption based on his previous behavior. He didn't look at his brother or his mother as he spoke.

"I…..uh…I hadn't told Senor Garcia, or Maria, about Heath. I mean about him not being our full brother. When I was down there at their ranch I only talked about…….well I didn't mention him at all. I told them about Eugene though, and when they were here for the dinner they thought that Heath was the younger brother I had talked about, and that they had misunderstood what I had said about him, and made a mistake in the name. I knew that night what they thought, but I couldn't figure out a way to correct it with out explaining the whole thing right then and there. So….I le tit go and I just thought I would tell Don Garcia later, before he could hear the gossip. I even meant to do it the next day when I went over to have lunch after church, but I was late and he had other guests. I didn't even get a chance to talk to Maria alone that day." He shook his head. "I tried again the week after, but then there was the bull……." He stopped, his mind going back to that day, the sight of Garcia with the rifle, and the bull slumping to his side, the bullet in his brain.

"Bull, what bull? What has that to do with Heath?" Victoria asked.

"Garcia has some of the most expensive breeding stock I've ever seen. Pure bred, a direct line back to Adam's first cow as far as I can tell." He said sarcastically. "He's very proud of them, talked it up at that lunch I was at. One of the bulls kept breaking out of his pen. He was determined to get at Peterson's milk herd, you know how he is about those cows of his. It happened again while I was there to talk to Garcia the second time. Constanza, Garcia's foreman, came in and told the Don that the bull was out and we went out to where he had gone through the fence. Peterson was already there and was howling about how he was gonna loose the use of the cows for a season, and that it would mess up his breeding program. All Garcia had to do was buy the cows, or even just give Peterson some money, but instead he took a rifle and …..he killed the bull. Just like that. It had to be a thousand dollars of beef on the hoof, if it was a penny, and he shot it like a diseased mossy horn from the breaks. Didn't so much as blink."

Nick pounded a fist on the mantel. "Then he starts telling me about how the bloodlines are sacred. How his family is like that bull was. Pure back to the bloody middle Ages and how he's happy that his daughter is marrying into a family like ours. How we're going to continue the line. Somehow it just didn't seem the right time to mention that my father had done precisely what that bull had just gotten shot for doing." He cast an apologetic look at his mother. "Sorry mother, but that's the thought I had at the time." He found he could no longer stand in one place, so he started pacing back and forth before the fireplace. His mother went to sit in one of the chairs, and Jarrod went to lean on the back of it, their attention on the pacing man.

"I should have just come out and said something, but I couldn't, not then. I wanted to think about it, and then …….it was too late. Yesterday morning, before I went over to Don Garcia's, Constanza came over. He told me that Garcia wanted to see me, and that there were certain rumors that had been heard. The way he looked at Heath…I knew what the rumors were, and so did Heath. I told Constanza I would be there as soon as I could get free, and started to walk away, and he said something to Heath, in Spanish. Heath understood it, but I only caught a word or two. Whatever it was, it wasn't nice. But then I guess Heath has gotten used to that. He just shrugged it off, and I guess he didn't have any reason to think that I would care what was said anyway." He stopped talking , and paced silently for several minutes.

"I take it the discussion with Don Garcia didn't go well?" Jarrod questioned.

"That would be putting it mildly." Nick growled. "The old man all but told me that the marriage was off if Heath was going to stay around. It wasn't so much that he existed, it was the fact that we had acknowledged him, admitted that father had……He actually came out and said that he understood that men had needs, and sometimes these things happened, even in the best families. But you didn't take the product in, didn't call him brother, well bred, Christian, folk don't even speak of such people." He echoed the words he had heard from Garcia. He could see the look of anger in Jarrod's eyes, and the same in his mother's. It reminded him that his sense of fair play, his sense of honor, was not all a gift from his father's bloodline.

"I would like to believe, Nicholas, that you informed Don Garcia that this family had made a decision about Heath's inclusion in this family, and that was not going to change." She said, her chin lifting in that imperious way that had made him first call her 'Duchess'.

He nodded. 'I told him, and then I had to leave before things got out of hand. I didn't get a chance to talk to Maria though, and I don't know where it stands with her. I……I would like to think that she'll decided to marry me despite her father, but I'm afraid…."

"It is a different culture in Mexico. When your father and I were there, many years ago, I know that the women of the moneyed families were protected, some almost cloistered until they married. I didn't expect it to be such with Maria. Perhaps she will surprise you and agree. But as much as I regret that this has caused a rift between you and Don Garcia, I think that we must focus on the problem that is now facing this family. Heath is gone, and like your brother, I believe that if we do not retrieve him, or at least make an attempt to do so immediately, he will be lost to us forever. He is well aware of our resources, and also I believe that he is well able to evade those resources if he so chooses. Perhaps the question we should ask is, do you want to help get him back, or do you prefer that we let him go?"

"Of course I want him back!" Nick nearly yelled then he looked sheepishly at his mother, who smiled at him with that small knowing look that said she understood exactly what he meant, and why he said things the way he did.

"Then we need to make a decision. I feel that Heath will not return if we simply were to send a message, or even an agent. I think that one or both of you should go. It is not really practical for me to accompany you, and I think that I should stay here with your sister."

"I'll go." Both Nick and Jarrod spoke at the same time, and then looked at each other, Jarrod with surprise, and Nick with belligerence.

"I have to go Jarrod. He said he was leaving because of me, and it'll have to be me that tells him that he should come back." Nick argued.

"Granted that he said he was doing it because of you Nick, but even you have to admit that you two are not on the best of terms, at least you haven't been. I think that he would be happier if someone less…contentious were to follow him."

"Less cont…what the hell does that mean? Don't throw your book learning at me! I know what has to be done, and I am the one to do it. He thinks that he went to save me so I 'm the only one that can tell him different."

"Nick…"Jarrod began only to be cut off by their mother.

"Enough!" She said firmly. "Upon reflection I believe that you should both go. Nick because supposedly it is because of him the Heath left, and Jarrod because as he says, you and Heath have not been on the best of terms." She said to her second son. "If he will not listen to one of you he might listen to the other. This is not something that we can afford to lose. As Heath said in his note, the cost would be too high." She rose to her feet. "Do either of you need help packing?" she asked. The brothers looked at each other, and bowed to the wisdom of their mother. They headed upstairs to pack.

Two hours later Jarrod was seated on a bench at the Stockton depot watching Nick pace back and forth across the platform. They were waiting for the afternoon train that headed North to the same destinations as the one that Heath had taken. As they had talked with the stationmaster they had become more and more disturbed. Up until that time they had considered the places where Heath might have gone somewhat limited. The stationmaster had reminded them that Sacramento was the hub of almost all the rail traffic in the state. It was from there that trains left for all points east. By this time Heath could have taken a train headed east and be halfway to Nevada. Of course he could have headed on North to where the current railhead was in Redding, or even west into San Francisco. Or any point in between.

Their only hope was to try to find out where he had gone when they got to Sacramento. While Heath might not be memorable to a clerk who saw hundreds of people a day, the fact that he had a horse with him would make him stand out. If he got on another train with the horse there would be records. The question now, and that had Nick pacing furiously, was would they get into Sacramento in time to ask questions before everyone went home for the night? The train was already fifteen minutes late, and there was no sign of it yet. Jarrod knew if it was any later, he would be hard put to keep Nick from renting a horse and starting out for Sacramento on horseback. He glanced around. They were the only people waiting.

"Nick. If we do convince Heath to return with us, what is it going to mean with you and Maria? I have to tell you that I don't have a good feeling about her defying her father and going ahead with the marriage. If that is the case I don't think that Heath would stay here. Are you prepared to deal with that?" He said. Nick came to a stop in front of him, and his eyes rose to meet Jarrod's.

"I don't know Jarrod. I don't want to think that Maria would let something like this stand in our way, but then I just came to realize in the last few days that I don't know her very well. I thought she was a woman like mother, if there could be anyone like Mother. I thought she could be more than a wife; a partner, a soul mate if that doesn't sound too hokey. But when I try to imagine Maria doing what Mother did, I can't do it. Not that she would have to, but…."

"But you would want her to be the type who would if she had to." Jarrod said, understanding what Nick was trying to say. He was not surprised to learn that Nick had not thought beyond Maria's obvious attributes when choosing her for his wife. She was a lovely young woman, educated, well mannered, a woman who would make any man look good when she was on his arm. But he had wondered to himself if that was what Nick really needed. Nick was a simple man, his first love was the ranch, and always would be. While he enjoyed a good get together as much as the next man, he would rather be talking ranching with other ranchers than seeing and being seen with those who were more concerned with their social status. He needed a woman who could if need be help a mare give birth, drive a wagon load of feed out to starving cattle, fight off rustlers with a rifle, and all the other things a rancher's wife needed to know about. Their mother had set a high standard, and Jarrod was afraid that Maria didn't meet them. He had however been prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt. But that doubt ended when it might cost them the company of their brother.

"Yeah. I do, and that probably isn't fair, to Maria or anyone. I mean Mother is one of a kind. I have to tell you Jarrod, I think that I may have made a mistake asking her to marry me. Maybe I should have waited until I had a chance to spend more time with her. I think I just fell for how she looked, and the way she acted. She seemed to be like mother in that, and I got to thinking….well, I might have been wrong. I just don't know." He sighed, and came to sit next to Jarrod on the bench. He leaned back against the wall, and closed his eyes.

"I do know one thing though Jarrod" He said not opening his eyes. "I want Heath back. I want to…I want to make up for the last few months that I wasted being angry. I want to get to know him like a brother. Like I know you. I want to know which way he's gonna jump when things get out of hand, like they do. I want to know how he thinks, what he feels, what he believes. I wanna know where he came from and I want to help him get to where he wants to go. I want…I want to watch the sunrise with him and not have him be suspicious of why I do it. I want to be the big brother to him that you have been to me, the brother I should have been from the start, the brother I should have been since he was born. And to tell you the truth Jarrod, I think that I want that more than I want Maria."

Jarrod was moved by his brother's speech, but was unsure how to answer. He laid a hand on the wide shoulder nearest him, and squeezed gently. As he did so the sound of a train's whistle could be heard from the south. He stood and grabbed his saddlebags that held his things. He scooped up Nick's as well, and met the now open hazel eyes. He gave what he hoped was a confidant smile.

"Well then Brother Nick, let's go get out little brother and bring him home shall we? We'll work out the rest after we're all together again." He said heartily, as the engine pulled into the station. Nick looked at him, and for the first time in the hours since he had heard that Heath had gone a small smile crossed his face. He stood and took his saddlebags from Jarrod's hand. He strode toward the day car with his usual determination, throwing a quick look over his shoulder at Jarrod.

"What are you waitin' for. Let's go."

**Chapter 13**

Heath leaned casually against the wall of the livery stable, looking over the corral where a herd of mules milled about. They looked well fed, and ready to work, at least as much as a mule is ever prepared for working. Most of the ones Heath had known were highly intelligent, and had no intention of working if they could find ways to avoid it. He had found that the average mule was way smarter than a horse, though not his Gal horse. He approved of this group, and pushed away from the wall to go inside the livery where Rufus was talking with the hostler. He was settling up his boarding fees so that they could pull out early the next morning, before dawn as a matter of fact. That was at Heath's insistence, as was his request to the hostler to keep it quiet. The mule drivers had been notified, as had the men that Heath had hired on as guards, but other than that no one was aware that they would be leaving Shasta City so quickly. Heath reckoned that their quick departure would throw off a few people, notably the tough crowd that had been hanging out at the saloon since they arrived two days ago from Redding, 12 miles to the east.

They had arrived at around two in the afternoon, and Heath had immediately started looking for people that he knew. He had worked around this area for several years, and had gotten to know a lot of people. Most of the ranches in the area were small compared to the Barkley holdings, and had to lay off their extra crews over the winter and into the spring. They would start rehiring soon for the fall round up season and the drives to market. Mostly the really good men were kept on, but there were a few men that Heath knew, good men, but unable to stay in one place for long. If they were still in the area they would be good guards. After a tour of all the saloons in Redding he had succeeded in finding all but one of the men he had been looking for, and he had located this last man in the local jail. A chat with the sheriff had revealed that the charge was drunk and disorderly, and that the cowboy simply hadn't had the cash to pay the fine and damages. After a talk with the inmate, and another with Huckmeister, Heath had bailed the man out with an advance on his pay for the job. With his base of familiar men, Heath had soon found himself with a good crew of experienced men that he felt they could trust. They were honest men who would not be tempted by the value of what they would be escorting. Huckmeister was offering good wages, and the men would be able to survive in fine style until the ranches started hiring later in the year. Huckmeister had been satisfied, and had arranged for his teamsters to meet them in Shasta the next evening. They would wait outside of town until Heath came out and got them and they would come and load the mules with the supplies. The guards would wonder into town, one or two at a time, and would filter out of town in the same way during the morning.

During the ride north on the train Huckmeister had told Heath about his claim. It seemed the old man had found an old streambed that had become cut off from the regular run of the creek. It had been dry a long time, and the brush and trees had over grown the area. Huckmeister had been camping on the site, preparing to work the next area of the actual creek, and had woke in the morning to find that the large pebble that had interrupt his sleep during the night had proven to be a nugget of gold. Further exploration had yielded a large amount more. He had taken samples for assaying, had staked the area for a claim, and had headed back to civilization. He had filed his claim, and then headed for Stockton for the assaying. He believed that his charade had thrown off any suspicious minds, but when you were talking large amounts of money it paid to be cautious.

Heath had questioned him about how long he felt it would take to remove the ore. Huckmeister said that he had surveyed what he felt was a lens of concentrated placer deposits, and he thought that it would only take a week or two to get it all panned out. Once the main lens was out, and brought into Shasta, he thought that he would be able to work the rest of the claim with a smaller contingent of guards and the teamsters. Heath had been glad for the talkative old miner, and for the busy time that he had in Redding. They had not had much time to stop, and that suited him just fine. When he stopped, and he had time to think, his thoughts drifted to the south, and the family he had let behind. He tried not to remember the gentle smile in Jarrod's blue eyes as they discussed a book they had both read, or Audra's smile of pleasure when he agreed to play checkers with her, or Mrs. Barkley's smile as he came in to the dining room in the morning, or even Nick's loud bellow as they came in the door at night. He tried but failed. He had done the right thing, but God how it hurt. It didn't seem quite fair that the right thing should be the most painful, possibly the most painful thing in a life that had thrown many painful things at him.

Huckmeister finished his business at the livery, ad with a pat to Gal's hip Heath walked with the old miner toward the hotel where they were staying. It wasn't no fancy place, but the beds were at least free of vermin, and the food was good. The small town, on the edge of the Cascade Range, was the last stop for miners moving out, or the first stop for miners returning from their quest. There were the usual stores and a church for the townspeople, and the rest of the town was made saloons and other entertainments for the miners. There were two large hydraulic mines working the Trinity River, and their men came into town once a month to spend their earnings, and find some companionship of the fairer sex. Heath hated the large mining combines. They destroyed any area they moved into without thought for any animals or people living nearby. IN their lust for gold, nothing else had any value. He could still remember his first view of the Malokoff diggings up in the Sierras, a huge scar on the earth.

It seemed the town was busier than usual right now, which suited Heath just fine. The more people moving around, the less likely they were to be missed. Of course it also made it hard to catch anyone who might be interested in them specifically, but the trade off was worth it in his opinion. The two men entered the hotel and went up to their rooms. Huckmeister had decided to spend the last night with some friends playing poker, but promised to stop in time to get some sleep before they left in the morning. Heath figured to eat his dinner, and maybe hang out in one of the saloons for a while. He didn't really want to be alone. He might even get some poker in himself. His pockets were lighter than he liked, even if Huckmeister had promised him money when it was all over. Heath trusted the miner to meet his obligations, else he would never have involved his friends, but he wanted to have some money of his own until that time. A man never knew when it was needed.

Later that evening he was leaning on a bar, a beer at his elbow, watching a fancy dressed gambler clean the miners and locals out of their earnings. It wasn't that he was cheating, Heath would have seen that, but he was good, and steady, and he understood how the cards worked. He bet cautiously most of the time, but knew when to go whole hog. The man was up quite a few dollars by Heath's count. Just from a poker player's point of view it was interesting to watch such a skilled performance, but heat was also watching one of the men that was playing. He didn't think that the gambler quite knew who he was dealing with there.

Heath only knew because he had cause to be wary of the man, and his kin who would be somewhere in town. The current poker victim was Jase Howland, youngest son, and if Heath recalled, apple of the eye of Thomas Howland, local rancher and probable cattle rustler and bank robber. Neither accusation had been proven, against Howland senior or any of his numerous sons, but everyone pretty much knew it was true. In any event, Howland ruled his ranch, his family, and as many local people who would stand for it with an iron hand. He had gotten himself elected to the position of county supervisor, and if he took a dislike to you, then you might as well move out of the area now and save yourself the hassle. He had ruined many good, but weak, men, and hated with a passion those he could not intimidate or cow. It was locally acknowledged that Howland ran the Marshall of Shasta city, and pretty much owned the mayor outright.

His sons, all eight, were spittin' images of their father, except for the youngest who took after his mother, who had died in childbirth with him. Being the youngest of such a family as his had not been beneficial to Jase's attitude toward others. He was used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it, and losing was not anything he wanted. Heath had heard stories, even down in Corning, about people who had crossed the Howlands. Usually they had some nasty accident, or mysteriously left the country in the middle of the night, sometimes leaving all their belongings behind. The local Marshall of course could find no evidence of foul play, and everyone would simply look at each other knowingly and step a little wider around the Howlands. This gambler evidently hadn't been in town very long, or was very stupid, which his playing did not show.

Heath was well familiar with the youngest Howland, and two of his older brothers. They had come down to Red Bluff for the Rodeo when Heath had been working in Corning to the south. Every cowhand who had ever dropped a rope on a calf, or who fancied himself a horse breaker or bull rider from miles around had come to participate, and Heath had been one. He had easily passed through the early go-rounds, and was in the finals of the horse breaking. Another contestant had been Jase Howland. Heath had noticed that the other finalists had seemed to develop problems, and the contest had come down to him and Jase. He had done his best, as was his way, and had stayed on his horse for that one second longer than Howland. It had been a good win, with a prize of twenty dollars and a buckle that he sold to another hand for three more dollars, after all, he wasn't gonna wear anything like that, and someone might as well get some use out of it. That night in one of the saloons he had found himself faced with Jase's two big brothers, the rest evidently not having come to town. They had suggested that he might want to turn over the buckle and money to their younger brother, and he had suggested where they might go. In the fight that ensued, they had managed to break up just enough of the bar to cost Heath all of the twenty bucks that he had won, leaving him with only the three dollars from the buckle. The Howlands had been forced to pay more he knew, and he was happy enough, though he would have liked to have the money to send on to his mother. She was feeling poorly of recent late, and the extra money would have ensured that she got the medicine that made the pain go away for a while.

In any event he had rode out of town without further meetings with the Howlands, and had been happy enough for it. He had gotten the better of the fight, and had hardly a bruise to show for it, in fact he was sure the horse had beat him up worse. They boys were determined, but not real good with their fists. They had gotten in each other's way, and that had allowed Heath to do much more damage than they could. He suspected that the Howlands as a group were used to getting what they wanted without having to resort to physical violence, and weren't used to someone saying "no" to them. That had been over a year ago. He doubted if Jase recognized him, the man had struck Heath as rather self-centered.

He kept watching the game until the gambler had cleaned out everyone at the table except Howland, who had a small pile of bills in front of him. Heath could tell by his actions that Howland was in no condition to continue to play. He was partly drunk and partly he was just a bad poker player. Heath had found that he could read the other man easily, and suspected that the gambler was having no trouble doing the same. He had to hand it to the man. He was a professional. He had even tried to pull out of the game, leaving Howland with the small bit he had remaining, but Jase would have none of it. Like most bad players he was sure that his luck would turn at any moment, and he would recoup all his losses, plus some. It wasn't going to happen. Heath knew that the gambler would clean him out in no time.

As he watched the final card was dealt, and the two men started the betting. It didn't take long for Howland to be out of cash, and since the game was table stakes only he couldn't get more. With bad grace he accepted the rule and called. The gambler lay out his cards, a respectable full house, and Howland sat staring at the cards for several moments, then threw his own hand on the table with a curse. He was up and out of his chair, pushing his way out the door in a second. Heath finished his beer and shook his head. He drifted over to the gambler's side.

"Don't think you want to be hanging around town much longer. In fact, was I you, I would be heading out right now. The further, the faster."

The gambler looked around at him, a puzzled look in his eyes. He waved the pile of bills that was his winnings. "This town is treating me well my young friend. Why should I move on?" he asked.

Heath gave him a small smile. The town might be treatin' you fine, but if you want to be holdin' on to any of that money you better be somewhere else real quick."

"What do you mean?" the other man asked. Heath glanced around, and could see no one that seemed to be paying particular attention to them. He nodded his head toward the door.

"I know it's early for someone like you, but it would be best if you go back to your hotel now before he can get back with one or more of his brothers. Once they get you corralled you ain't getting out of here with your money." He warned. The man studied him for several minutes then rose and put on his hat. The two men went out the door, and turned toward the direction of Heath's hotel, which it turned out was the gambler's as well. The man introduced himself as Jenkins, and they walked in silence through the still busy streets. Te town would slow down after midnight, but like most gold towns it would never really sleep. The saloons would be open all night, and the cathouses would be busy until dawn.

Once they got back to the hotel Heath accompanied the gambler to his room. Once they were inside Heath sunk into the single chair, and the gambler sat on the bed, and lighted a small cigar. It reminded Heath of Jarrod, and his small cigars that he enjoyed in the evening after dinner on the porch. He shook his head when the gambler offered one to him.

"Now my young friend, why do you feel that I should leave this fair city?" Even the man's speech patterns reminded Heath of Jarrod, though their looks were not the same.

"It ain't the city you need to get away from, it's the folks what run it, and one of them is the man you just beat at poker. I know from past experience that he don't take to losin' well, and he's got him a passel of brothers to call on that don't care for it much either. There's lots of talk that several people that got on the wrong side of them disappeared real quick like, not all of them of their own free will if you understand what I mean."

"I do. Unfortunately I have run into such men before, and while I feel that I can handle myself well in a one to one confrontation, I find crowds distasteful. However, I am not a cowhand, and do not have my own horse. I came up on the stage, and I believe that it will not be returning to Redding until the morning. If what you say is correct, I do not feel that they are going to permit me to board with my winnings." He stopped and looked at Heath. "You never asked if I cheated to win. For all you know I may deserve to loose the roll."

Heath shook his head. "I ain't a professional, but I know a cheat when I see it. You won it fair, though I can't say Howland was much of a challenge. If you was cheating I wouldn't have bothered to warn you." The gambler nodded, understanding the distinction Heath had made. He was glad he was straight.

Heath rose to his feet and went to look out the window that overlooked the street. He couldn't see anyone watching the hotel, but then it was dark and there were places someone could hide and see the hotel well without being seen. He thought for a moment and then turned to look at the gambler. They were of a height, and of the same coloring though the gambler looked to be somewhere near forty. With a quick glance around the room, Heath could see that the man traveled light, only a small carpetbag was in evidence. There might just be a way to help both the gambler, and cover up what he and Huckmeister were doing. He looked at the gambler who was watching him with quizzical blue eyes.

"How about we help each other out? My friend and me are pulling out of here in the morning, and we'd rather people didn't know about it. If you were to go to the stage dressed different than you are, at the last minute with a ticket already bought, then I think you might just be able to make it out. Jase Howland only saw you in the black get up and with that little mustache. If you were in some different clothes and clean shaved, you would look some different."

The gambler ran a hand over his mustache. He had grown fond of it, and had taken to stroking it while he played. It was something of a good luck thing with him. He considered. While it might be good luck, he wasn't going to cling to it at the expense of his winnings and possibly his life. He looked at he young man. He wasn't sure why he had trusted the man, but his business depended on his ability to read people, and he saw only an honest man, trying to help. He shrugged. "Well, the mustache can go, though I'll miss it. But I can grow it back. The cloths are a problem though. This is my only suit I am afraid. I hadn't thought to need another, it seems I need to expand my wardrobe in the future."

"Don't worry none about that, I got some clothes you can wear." Heath said, his mind whirling with a plan. "Me and my friend want to get out of town tomorrow without anyone being the wiser. If you was to make something of a show of getting on the stage dressed like me, it might just throw them off enough to give us a good head start to the west, and get you out of town with the Howlands none the wiser." Heath suspected that the group that was most interested in Huckmeister's claim was probably associated with the Howlands, and this way they would be frustrated on both fronts. The idea pleased Heath somehow. He had no liking for people that used fear to control others, or to ride roughshod over those that didn't yield.

The gambler considered. He could see how both he and the cowboy would benefit from the plan. He knew that there were pokers games to be played elsewhere, and he would not risk his life on foolish courage. He nodded in agreement. "All right. How are we going to get a ticket now though, the station has to be closed." It seemed a weak part of the plan. It was well past ten, and he was sure the stationmaster was probably fast asleep.

Heath gave him a small crooked smile. "I happen to know where the stationmaster is right now, and know someone who's a good friend of his. I think he could be persuaded to make an exception for us and sell you a ticket now. All you would have to do is walk out of here wearing my clothes and keeping your head down. The first stage leaves at seven, I reckon if you show up there at five 'til and just climb on no one will be any the wiser."

The gambler agreed and Heath went off to where Huckmeister and his friends were still playing poker, in the parlor of the town doctor. He waited until the hand was finished and then pulled Huckmeister aside. The old miner had a good laugh about the happening, and nodded in agreement. He called the stationmaster over and the deal was done. Since the game was over they went down to the station and a ticket was purchased. Heath returned to the hotel with Huckmeister and went to get his spare clothes. It was gonna make it difficult for him until he got back, but it was worth it if it threw off the men that might follow. Huckmeister provided a beat up cowboy hat that was the right color, even if it wasn't quite the right shape. Probably no one would notice, and it would give the gambler more cover.

Heath returned to the gambler's room and gave him the clothes, hat and ticket. The gambler had not been idle while he was gone, and the mustache was already gone. Heath noticed he had even trimmed down his sideburns closer to what Heath wore. They didn't look much alike standing side by side, but taken one on one, he thought it would do. The gambler took the offerings, and looked askance at the young man.

"You do realize that you haven't even asked my name, or told me yours?" The gambler asked.

Heath shrugged. "Names don't matter much. If you need one, I'm Heath…." He hesitated. "Heath Thompson." He finished. He had almost said Barkley, and the very thought of it hurt. In the few short months he had come to think of himself as Barkley, even after a lifetime of being Thompson. IT had meant that much to him.

"Ely Whitaker. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He offered a hand and got a firm shake in return. He had to ask the question that had been in his mind since the younger man had approached him in the saloon. "Why are you doing this? I think you cold have gotten out of town in fine style without my help. Why put yourself out for a stranger?"

Heath shrugged. "It's the right thing to do. I don't like to see anyone buffaloed, and I know what it's like to be alone in a town with everyone against you. It ain't a pretty place to be. If a man don't do what's right for others, he ain't got no right to expect someone to do right by him later."

"A very good philosophy my friend. Would that more people followed it. Please be assured that I will pass on your good deed some day." Whitaker said, amused and amazed at the response. It was unusual in one so young to understand the give and take of fate. But something in the pale blue eyes said this young man had a lot of experience, and knew of what he spoke.

They talked a little more of the plan then Heath said his goodbye, wishing the gambler good night and a good trip. Whitaker returned the good wishes, and closed the door behind the young man. He looked thoughtfully at the clothes on the bed. He had the distinct impression that the younger man didn't have a lot of money to spare, and he suspected that these clothes were all the man had beside what he wore. Whitaker kept his wardrobe at a minimum to facilitate his nomadic lifestyle. His winning would allow him to buy whatever he needed where ever he might be, and so he had not known want in many a year since he had learned his trade.

It touched something deep inside of him, something he had thought lost in the pessimistic turn of mind that he had cultivated after years of seeing the worst of what a man can be. He had little chance to meet good men who would act out of right and not profit. He sat down on the bed and picked up the blue shirt. He could see that the elbows had been neatly patched, and the cuffs showed a lot of wear. It was the shirt of a man who worked with his hands and muscles, a world apart from Whitaker's existence. Once, long ago, he had been at a crossroad. His had been the choice to work with his hands, to join his father in the family business of storekeeping. But instead he had fled to the Mississippi. The great muddy river, and the riverboats that plied it's waters, had become his life, and he had learned to gamble: playing poker, chuck-a-luck, three-card Monte, and any other game of chance that would make him money. He had put aside a good amount of money in a bank back East. He would be able to spend his declining years in comfort when he could no longer travel. But as he sat there fingering the worn shirt he started to wonder if in the chase for the dollar he had forgotten what was of more worth.

He could not recall a time when he would have risked himself for another man, with no thought to gain. His own father had been known for miles around as a man who would give a person in need a bag of beans or flour with no expectation of payment. His mother, God rest her soul, knitted sweaters and socks for the local church poor chest. How had he gotten so far from his roots? When he had fled the small town he had grown up in had he fled the values that his parents had instilled within him? When had he ceased to care for his fellow man, and only for the dollar value he represented? Whitaker found himself spending the rest of the night searching his soul for answers, and finding himself deeply surprised at what he found there.

In the early hours of the next morning, Heath led Gal out of the livery stable following Huckmeister and the teamsters leading the mules. Everyone was moving quietly. While the town was quieter than it was the previous night, there were still people moving about. Luckily they were usually drunks making their way home, or last minute visitors leaving the cathouses. Heath kept a wary eye out as they quickly left town heading north. If anyone was watching, he hoped this would throw them off when they turned west.

The mules were loaded with food, lumber, shovels and pans, all purchased in Redding and brought up in covered bundles that had been moved one at a time to the livery. During the night the teamsters had come to the livery one at a time, and had slept in the loft. They had loaded the mules shortly before they left, bringing them into the barn one at a time. Every effort had been made to not draw attention to their actions. As they got outside of town, they swung west and they soon were at the meeting point where the men Heath had hired were waiting. There were five men, all experienced hands, waiting at the spot when Heath rode out ahead of the mules. He moved cautiously around the area to check for any interlopers before he gave a whistle. At the return whistle he went into the clearing where the other men were sitting around a small campfire. They had been camped here, and knew where ready to go. Heath could see that the men had made a good effort to cover up their sign, so that even a good tracker would not know how many men had been here, or how long they had waited. As Heath rode in one of the men poured the last of the coffee on the small fire, and started kicking dirt over the smoldering ash. No words were exchanged as the men saddled up, and as the mules caught up with them, Huckmeister mounted on his horse and leading Elspeth, they filtered into the line, spacing themselves out. Heath let the rest pass through, and with a last glance around the camp followed them into the forest.

**Chapter 14**

Jarrod leaned back against the seat cushion and sighed, watching the small Anderson rail station disappear behind them. This was the last stop before Redding. As they had feared the late train northbound train had gotten them into Sacramento too late to get many answers. They had to wait until the next day to be sure that Heath had continued on North, which was confirmed by the listing of a black mare in the horse car, transferred from the Stockton train. They had spent the night there, much to the frustration of both Barkleys, and then the next morning left on the northbound train. They had spent the next several hours, taking turns jumping off the train at each stop, asking quick questions, and jumping back on, sometimes as the train was leaving the station. The black mare had not been unloaded in town after town, and a blond young man had not been seen disembarking. The train had stopped for half an hour in Corning, and both of the Barkleys got down and asked their questions. A few horses had been unloaded here, but none of them were black mares. In addition the stationmaster had known Heath by his description and that of the horse. He had looked narrowly at Jarrod who had been asking the questions, and then at Nick who had been hovering impatiently in the background.

"What you want with Heath? I know you boys aren't the law, so it must be something else. Heath was always a good boy, don't cotton to setting trouble on his tail." He said. With that Nick stepped forward and grabbed the man's vest, half dragging him over the counter before Jarrod could grab him and pry his hand loose. Nick, his hazel eyes blazing, reluctantly let go, but not before glaring at his brother.

'It's family business." He growled to the man. "He's our brother. Is he in town?"

The man huffed his indignation and straightened his vest. He looked from Jarrod to Nick, as if trying to see the resemblance between them and Heath. "Don't reckon I ever heard Heath mention no family." He finally said suspiciously.

"Heath doesn't mention much of anything. If you know him at all, you know that. We don't mean him any harm. We simply are trying to find him, there's something he needs to know about, and he needs to come home. Now can you help us find him?" Jarrod stepped forward, taking back the conversation and giving Nick a warning look. This was not the time for his pushy ways. The stationmaster nodded thoughtfully.

"That's a fact. Seen dead men more talkative than that boy. Quietest poker player I ever done seen. Ain't seen one better either, and I've been in a few games in my years." He said, evidently less suspicious since Jarrod seemed to know Heath's character. His eyes went to Nick as he shifted impatiently. "He isn't here, but he was, yesterday afternoon. Was on the same train as you, kept on going north. He came in and asked after some of the boys he used to ride with. I told him what I knew and he got back on the train. Got some bad news for him do you?" he asked.

Jarrod and Nick exchanged looks. Why would Heath be asking after old friends? And why was he going to Redding? They had been assuming that Heath was simply fleeing the ranch, now it seemed he was going to somewhere, and for a reason that they didn't know. Neither one wanted to think about how much harder that could make their search. It was daunting, but they were not prepared to give up, and they saw that determination in each other's eyes. The stationmaster snapped his fingers, drawing their attention back to him.

"You know, I think he was traveling with someone. There was this old man, dressed kind a shabby that got off the train with Heath; he was walking around, kinda stretching his legs, while Heath was in here talking. I recall how when we were finished Heath went out and talked with the old man, and they got on the train together. Come to think of it, the old man got on the horse car for a few minutes. There were only two horse and a burro on there, so I guess the other animals must have been his."

"Can you describe this man?" Jarrod asked. He and Nick listened to the description that the stationmaster gave, but neither recognized the man. Finally it was time to reboard the train, and they did so with mixed feelings. At least they knew Heath was headed this way, and they had not missed him at some small stop between here and Stockton, but there was a lot of country to the north, and they knew that Heath was more than able of disappearing into the mountains. They could only hope that it would not be the case. They sat mostly in silence, lost in their own thoughts as the train continued north, past the rolling brown hills and sometimes along the side of the Sacramento river. They could see boats moving on the large river, smaller craft than what came into Stockton, but still moving goods up and down from the Delta. The new train would be putting a stop to that soon Jarrod was sure, moving faster and more regularly, but for now the boats continued. Old ways, Jarrod thought. They were fading away.

As he thought that he had a flash of an old man riding down the street of Stockton, leading a burro behind him. He was the epitome of a miner down from the hills. Jarrod had remembered thinking that the old man was the last of a dying breed. So much of the mining still be done was by the large concerns now. Hard rock mines sunk thousands of feet into the earth. IN the hills around Stockton the placer miners were few and far between. Jarrod had another flash of the last social they had all attended. He had been dancing attendance, literally on Mary St Clair, but he had turned his attention form the beautiful redhead long enough to notice what his siblings were up to through out the night. As always he kept a big brotherly eye on Audra, and he had been amused by Nick's vigorous laughter from the group of men. He had also been curious about his younger brother's social acumen. Heath had avoided the dancing, but he had noticed that the young man seemed to find people to chat with, though it seemed he did more listening than talking. One of the people that Heath had talked to had been an old man, his white hair slicked down with pomade and smelling of bay rum from the barbershop. The old miner.

Jarrod nudged Nick with his foot. His brother, who had been staring out the window, lost in his own thoughts turned to him with a questioning look. "Nick, do you remember the miner that was at the social a few weeks ago? I don't know his name, but he came into town with a horse and a burro. He was there for almost a month. I know that he and Heath talked at the social. They could be traveling together."

Nick scowled. "Why would Heath be traveling with some old miner? He' s a cowhand. He's not going to go chasing off after some claim somewhere. With his hand with horses anyone would hire him on in an instant. Hell, there's people in the valley that would have taken him." He said it with a quiet pride, and Jarrod found himself smiling at his younger brother.

"What?" Nick demanded, seeing the smile "What's so funny?". He didn't feel much like smiling himself, and he couldn't see why Jarrod would either.

"You, brother Nick. I never realized that you were able to flip flop your opinion so swiftly." At Nick's puzzled scowl he continued. "You've gone from reviling Heath as a lying interloper to being proud of his prowess with horses in a matter of days. It's quite impressive really. You've always been rather set in your ways to say the least. I am…surprised at your change is all."

Nick harrumphed, and crossed his arms across his chest, knowing that his brother was teasing him. He looked back out the window again, watching the grassland that they passed through. It brought his mind to the ranch, and he found that recently when he thought of the ranch he thought of Heath. He looked back at Jarrod, who was watching him with those piercing eyes. "I was wrong Jarrod, I admit it. I hope that you don't think that I'm so stuck on myself that I can't change my mind when it's right." He looked away again. "I've never been so wrong about something like this before. And it's never cost me so much….." He took a deep breath and studied his reflection in the window. "I've made Heath's life miserable, made you and the family angry and disappointed, messed up my engagement, and generally made an #%$ of myself in front of everyone. I think I've paid my dues for being wrong. I don't want to pay anymore, or have Heath pay for it. We have to find him Jarrod."

Jarrod nodded. "We will, Brother Nick. If Heath is traveling with the miner, for whatever reason, then it will be easier to pin down where he leaves the train. One man might not be noticeable, but two men, two horses, and a burro are going to be seen and remembered."

Nick sighed. "Yeah, I reckon you're right about that. The question is where are they stopping. We still got what three stop before we get to Redding? They could have gotten off at any one of them, and it would have been a day ago. If Heath's traveling with the miner, then they could take to the hills in any direction. And don't tell me people would notice them; it ain't like any miner is going to advertise where he's prospecting. What do we do then?" he asked.

"We'll do what we Barkley men do best Brother Nick, we persevere. Father always said that part of his success was that he hung on when other men gave up. We won't give up until we find Heath."

"Hang in like he did in Strawberry?" Nick said sarcastically. "He really hung in there till the end didn't he? Seems like he was there, got his money out of the mine, got Heath's mother with child, and left. There's an example to strive for."

"I prefer to think that we don't know the full story about that, Nick. Father was a business man, who would have gotten out of the mines when he saw that they were no longer producing, that is after all the time to take your profit and go. As to Heath….I want to think that he didn't know about him, and that's why he didn't go back for him."

"Well that would be the pretty way out wouldn't it? That way most of the shine stays on that golden reputation that everyone, including me, made so much of. But you know what Jarrod? I almost don't care any more. He's dead and nothing anyone can say is going to change what happened. Whatever the truth, we have a new brother. I think that is the important thing now. I've put too much time in thinking about what Heath's coming meant about Father. Now it's time to think about what it means to me, the family, and to the ranch, and……to him." He slammed a fist down on the seat. "Here I am ready to make nice, and he's God knows where! I'm telling you Jarrod the boy is just naturally contrary!"

Jarrod smiled to himself at the indignation in Nick's voice. It was good to see that Nick had finally come around about Heath. It had been a long time coming. As much as he enjoyed teasing Nick about his change of mind, Jarrod was not surprised about the depth of feeling that Nick was now showing for Heath. Nick was a man of deep feelings. Once you were in his heart you were there forever or until you proved yourself not worthy to be there. Nick had finally let Heath in, and now Heath was as important to Nick as any other member of his family. Jarrod had come to count on that devotion for himself, and he knew that Heath would do the same in time. As much as he now did not doubt Nick's feelings about Heath, Jarrod did not doubt that they would find their brother.

As Nick said, it would be infinitely more difficult if Heath had gone with the miner into the hills. Jarrod had hoped that Heath would have simply gotten off the train in Corning and went back to the ranch he had been working at previously. He happened to know that Heath had gotten a letter from the owner of that ranch, asking him to return. It had been in the mail that had been handed to his office clerk. His clerk had simply opened the envelope and added the letter to the pile of letters for him to read. Jarrod, trying to work through the mail before a busy day in court had been part way through the first paragraph before he had realized it was not addressed to him. It was not as if he could forget what he had read, though he did not compound the breach of his brother's privacy by reading further. He had returned the letter to its envelope and had explained to Heath what had happened that night. His brother had shrugged and taken the letter, and never said a word about the contents. Jarrod had read enough to know that the rancher had offered a highly attractive wage if Heath would return to the ranch to head the horse breeding program. Even the lawyer had heard of the horses from that particular ranch. Jarrod had quietly assumed that it was there that Heath would go now that he had tried to cut himself off from the Barkley's. Perhaps Heath had thought of Jarrod's knowledge, and avoided the ranch because of it.

Jarrod didn't think so however. In the first place he didn't really think that Heath believed they would come after him. The younger man had a definite lack of faith in the possibility that others might value him for himself, care about him, and want him to stay. Perhaps in that way Nick's hostility was a comfortable familiarity to Heath. It reaffirmed everything that Heath had come to think about himself. In the second place, even if Heath did think they were coming after him, he would be in no way concerned about facing them. Jarrod had heard the stories about what happened with Wallant, not from Heath, but from Duke and several of the hands. If their brother could face down a whole crew of men without backing down, then facing two brothers would be no problem. It was somewhat amusing for Jarrod to consider that only Heath could not see the Barkley traits that ran so deeply in him.

The train stopped at Red Bluff, where they once again questioned the stationmaster. They ended up back on the train, with only one more stop between there and Redding. It looked as if Heath had gone all the way to the railhead. Unfortunately, as Jarrod had found from talking with the conductor, there were several areas in the hills around Redding that were still being worked by small prospectors. The seemingly endless canyons and valley that were hidden in the Cascade Range had yielded an assortment of minerals, gold among them. There was also talk of there being a strike up near the Klamath River to the several days horse ride to the north. The conductor told them that Redding was busier than usual right now because of the strike, and because the railroad was getting ready to push the railhead on north along the course of the Sacramento. Tunnels were already being started along the proposed route, and there were men coming in expectation of jobs. It wasn't welcome news to the Barkley brothers. It was more likely that Heath could disappear in the crowd.

Another hour and they were coming into Redding. The other riders were gathering their things, and the two brothers scooped up their saddlebags from the floor under their seats. Once the train stopped they disembarked onto the busy platform, and went into the station. They questioned the man there, and he did indeed remember that a man with a horse and burro had disembarked at the same time the night before. He hadn't any idea of where he might be going, or if there was another man with him. He could confirm that there was another horse on the car, but couldn't say if it was a black mare. The Barkley brothers had gone back out, and stood looking down the main street, both at something of a loss as to what steps to take next.

"Do you think we should see the Marshall?" Jarrod asked. He knew that in Stockton, as large as it was compared to Redding, Fred always tried to be aware of new people that came into town. Nick looked around at all the men on the streets, and shook his head.

"I don't think it would do much good. Unless Heath got into some kind of trouble, he isn't likely to stand out much in this crowd. It might be better to start checking the liveries. Hopefully they didn't just get off the train and head out. They would have had to stock up on supplies would be my guess." Nick suggested. They agreed on this course and decided to go in opposite directions, and then meet at the hotel the conductor had suggested to them.

Several hours later Jarrod, who was sitting on a chair on the porch of the hotel, didn't have to speak with Nick to know how his search had gone. The very pound of his boots on the sidewalk and the scowl on his face was enough. He threw himself in the chair next to his brother, and scowled at the street. Jarrod gave a small smile and offered him a cigar, which Nick accepted. They smoked for several moments in silence, and Nick finally looked at Jarrod.

"Anything?"

Jarrod shook his head. "Nothing for sure. At least no one would come right out and say that they had kept two horses and a burro for any length of time. I can say for sure they are not in any livery that I was in today. I didn't see one burro anywhere, and I definitely did not see Gal." He replied. Nick looked at him closely.

"What do you mean 'nothing for sure'? Do you think someone was lying to you? I can take care of that." Nick asked.

Jarrod shrugged, "I think that one of the men was lying when he said he hadn't had any burros, and I think he may have recognized Heath's description. He was an old timer; looks to have been here long enough that they built the town around him. I'm thinking that if the miner was a friend, he might not say anything. The horses and burro definitely weren't there." He stopped and held up a hand as Nick started to speak. "No, I don't think you should go talk to him. He won't talk, and we'd end up alienating a lot of people."

"But if he knows something.." Nick started.

"Let me finish Nick. You're not the only one that wants to find Heath." Jarrod snapped in reminder. Nick looked chastened, and Jarrod continued. "I happened to speak with one of the old man's helpers. He's willing to talk to us, but can't until he gets off. He doesn't want his boss to know that he's speaking to us, and will meet us in a saloon at the end of town. He says it's the only place that he knows the old man won't go."

"Well how late is that going to be?" Nick asked.

"He gets off at eight, and will meet us in the saloon at nine. We have to stay here anyway Nick, we might as well get some dinner and maybe some sleep then meet him."

"The food I'll go for, but I want to spend some time in the saloons. If Heath were here he probably would have been in at least one. Maybe someone will remember."

Jarrod nodded in agreement, knowing he couldn't talk Nick out of it in any event. They went inside and got a room and then went into the hotel restaurant. After a meal they sat for a while drinking some coffee. Outside the light had faded, leaving he street to be lighted by the lamps in the windows of various businesses. Men and women moved in and out of the lights, reappearing at the next island of light. There was faint music coming from a nearby saloon. Jarrod was tired, they had left Sacramento early, and he had not slept well the night before. Nick was no better off, but he knew that Nick's energy would not allow him to rest at this time. It was probably best that Nick do the saloons on his own anyway. Even when dressed in far more casual cloths than he was usually used to wearing, Nick had informed him years ago that he just didn't look like a cowhand. He was too polished, to upscale. Of course Nick said it also had something to do with his soft hands, but Jarrod discarded that as the usual teasing. Whatever it was, he knew that Nick was telling him the truth. He had seen it himself. Where Nick could fit in with any crowd, he would find himself isolated.

At nine a frustrated Nick and a slightly refreshed Jarrod entered the saloon at the end of the street. It wasn't one of the better saloons, having only a makeshift bar, two planks on top of three barrels. The room showed signs of regular fights, and the amount of breakable items was at a minimum. The two brothers opted for beer, seeing as how the whisky looked to be newly made in a tub out back, and possibly contained various things that would not be conductive to continued good health. Not that the beer was very good. It was warm, and slightly flat. They sat, without talking, pretending to nurse their beers. It gave them a reason not to drink them. Luckily it was only a few minutes later that a young red-haired man entered the saloon and came to sit with them. He eyed the beer that sat in front of each of them with envy, and Jarrod seized the opportunity to slide his mug toward the younger man.

He grabbed the mug and chugged down half the contents without stopping. He then put the mug down and smiled at the brothers. "Man that hits the spot. You can only drink so much water then you gotta have something better."

"Yes, I know what you mean." Jarrod said with a forced smile. Nick sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes. The redhead finished off the rest of the beer in Jarrod's mug and started eyeing Nick's. Jarrod cleared his throat to get his brother's attention then nodded at the beer. Nick scowled then shoved the beer toward the younger man. Before it could be picked up Jarrod put his hand over it and got the man's attention.

"You said that you had some information about two horses and a burro, from yesterday." He reminded the man.

"Yeah, a friend of the old mans, came up on the train I guess. He was only staying in town for a little while, but the old fart made me curry out the donkey and one of the horses. The other guy took care of the mare himself so at least I didn't have to do that." He groused. Nick and Jarrod exchanged glances. Heath had always insisted on taking care of Gal himself, no matter where they might be. Even with Ciego available at the ranch he always did his own work.

"When did they leave?" Jarrod said, falling back on his legal training to allow him to ask questions calmly while his feelings were in an uproar.

"Pulled out really early this morning. Don't know where to, though. Wasn't none of them talking, including the old man. I didn't see them go if that' s your next question."

Jarrod asked several other questions, and was satisfied that the man had no further answers to give them. He removed his hand from the mug and tossed a five dollar gold piece on the table. It quickly disappeared into the redhead's pocket as he picked up the mug. Jarrod and Nick quickly left the saloon, and stood in the moonlit street. Nick waved hi arms around them, indicating the mountains that surrounded the small town on all but one side.

"That's just dandy!" he nearly yelled. "They left this morning for who knows where. What do we do now? There are lots of places they could have gone."

"True, and we'll look in them all. Tomorrow we'll see about renting some horses, and start asking questions outside of town. Someone must have seen them. There's a lot of people moving around, and they didn't just disappear from here and appear someplace else magically." They started toward the hotel, dodging men moving between the saloons. They didn't speak as they reached their room and climbed into their beds. As they lay there in the dark, each one found it hard to sleep.

The next day they rented horses and headed north, thinking that perhaps the miner had been headed toward the newest strike in Yreka. They still didn't know why Heath was with the man, but they were assuming since the horses had been boarded together, and seemed to have left at the same time that they were still traveling together. They spent the day speaking with people heading south on the trail, and stopping at small ranches and farms. By the end of the day they returned to Redding with no information. Nick was frustrated and angry. Jarrod was frustrated and saddle sore. Nick went off to the saloon to have a drink, and continue questioning anyone that he thought could help, and Jarrod stopped by the telegraph station to send a non-committal note to Victoria and Audra. He wished they could offer more optimism, but they would not thank him for building false hope.

They spent another night in the hotel, conversation at a minimum. Jarrod could tell that the search was wearing on Nick's patience, but knew that his brother would never give up. He just hoped that they could find Heath soon. Nick's mood was not going to improve, and he could be difficult to deal with when he was moody. He could be overly aggressive, and that made getting cooperation difficult. They would need all the cooperation they could get. The next day was much the same, this time they headed east up to the lumber camps. They went to three different camps, but no one had seen anyone meeting the description. They did learn that there had been no strikes in the area, and it seemed very doubtful that a miner would be interested in traveling this direction. That left only the west, and they would head that way tomorrow.

The next morning they came into the restaurant to find it busy. There were no available tables, but at one of the tables sat the owner of the livery stable where the horses and burro had been. The old man eyed them with some disdain it seemed, then motioned them to join him. The two brothers sat down and ordered their breakfast. The old man, finished with his own, sat back and sipped at a cup of coffee. He seemed to be studying the two Barkleys minutely. Finally he sat the coffee cup down and leaned forward.

"Word is around town that you're still looking for that pair of fellows. Seem mighty determined.." he observed.

"We are determined, and we aren't going to stop looking. Not until we find our brother." Nick growled. Jarrod sighed. If Nick had been in a bad mood yesterday, then today he was like a bear with a sore tooth. He put a hand on the black clad arm, and leaned forward.

"We are, as my brother says, still looking Mr. Hart. We know that our brother and the man he was traveling with were here, and it is just a matter of time until we find out which direction they went when they left. Until that time, we will be visiting your lovely town I'm afraid."

"Blond fella was you brother you say?" the old man asked.

Nick bristled. "Yes, he is our brother, and if you know something.."

"Nick!" Jarrod snapped, getting his younger brother's attention before he could say anything further. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a nickel. He tossed it to Nick who caught it with a puzzled look. 'Why don't you go get us a paper? I understand a new one came out today, and I would like to read the local news. There could be something of interest." Jarrod saw the protest rise in Nick's eyes, but he cut his own eyes toward the old man, who was watching the exchange with interest. Nick scowled, but then pushed his chair back and with an angry jingle of spurs exited the room.

"Got a temper on that one." The old man said and took another sip at his coffee. "Bet he and the blond one are a handful."

"Indeed, Mr. Hart, they are." Jarrod said. The waitress put a cup of coffee in front of the lawyer and he gratefully sipped it. He set it down and looked at the old man. "If you have any information Mr. Hart we would deeply appreciate it if you would share it with us. We want to find our brother and bring him home. Our mother and sister are waiting, and as you can see my brother is impatient."

"How do I know you aren't trying to catch this boy for something else? Or aren't after the old man he's traveling with for some reason? I got no reason to trust either of you, were I to knowing anything that is." The old man hedged.

Jarrod leaned forward and with all the sincerity that he could muster looked the man in the eye. "Mr. Hart. I care deeply for my brother Heath, as does my brother Nick. I can't give you any assurances beyond my word that what we say is the truth, but it is. If you know anything, anything at all, that would help us find my brother, we would be eternally grateful."

The old man looked at him for several minutes, and then sighed. "All right. I kept the burro and horses in my place overnight. Old Rufus is a friend of mine. That's why I didn't want to set you on their trail with out some idea of what you were after."

"Then you do know where they were headed?" Jarrod asked. This could be the break they needed so badly.

"Well, not exactly. Rufus isn't about to say much about where he prospects, even to an old friend. But I do know which way they was headed." The old man looked around as if to be sure that no one was listening. "They went from here up to Shasta City, in the hills to the west. Old Rufus had him a group of mules and teamsters ready to go put to his claim. The boy was putting together a group to guard the claim and the mules on the way back. Seemed to know what he was doing, I gotta say, even for a youngster."

"Let me see if I understand you." Jarrod said, wanting to be sure he understood the circumstances. "This prospector had made a strike then? He needed someone to guard him while he mined the claim, and then to get his gold back to town I assume."

"That's the ticket." The old man said. He looked around again. "There's certain folk up around Shasta that he was afraid of you see. They got the place under their heel pretty well, and Rufus was afraid he would be followed and robbed. He run into your brother down in Stockton, I guess, hired him on to boss the crew of guards."

"Were they going to stay in this Shasta for any length of time?" Jarrod was hoping that they could simply ride to Shasta and find Heath. It would be almost anticlimactic, but certainly nice. But the old man was shaking his head.

"Don't reckon they were. My understanding was they were going to gather up the teamsters and get a few supplies that they didn't take with them from here, and then go. Might have been yesterday or today, don't know which. They were hoping to sneak outta town, so I figure it would have been at night whenever it was." He finished his coffee and stood. He tossed a few dollars on the table for his meal. "Good luck to you, on finding your brother. I can tell you one thing, was I you. I would be careful how I was asking questions up there in Shasta. You don't want to leading those men to Rufus and your brother." He wondered off. Nick, who had been hovering in the foyer, came back to the table.

"Well, did you manage to get anything out of the old fart?" he asked, nodding at the waitress as she sat a cup of coffee in front of him. He spun the nickel that Jarrod had tossed him on the table in front of his brother.

"As a matter of fact Brother Nick, I did. He says that the miner had a claim somewhere to the west of here, and that he hired Heath to boss the guards that he needed to protect the claim and the gold he took out. I take it there's a group of thieves that have the area under their thumb up there. They were supposed to stop over in a town called Shasta to the west of here, but the old man didn't know how long they were going to be staying. I understand that Heath hired the guards while they were here, and they are meeting the teamsters for the mules up there."

Nick surged to his feet. "What are we waiting for? Let's go, they could be leaving while we're sitting here jawing." Jarrod reached out and grabbed Nick's arm and pulled him back into the chair.

"We can't just go charging in asking questions Nick, as Mr. Hart pointed out we don't want to lead the outlaws right to Heath and the claim. Also, the old man said that the plan was for the group to leave at night, or early in the morning when they wouldn't be seen. If that is the case they are either already gone, or will be there until tonight at the least. We have time to eat breakfast, then we can rent some horses and head out."

Nick settled with ill grace, and devoured the breakfast the waitress soon set before them in record time. Jarrod found himself eating quickly too, despite his calming words to Nick. He wanted to be on their way. They finished quickly and went upstairs to pack their things. They checked out of the hotel and started toward the livery where they had rented horses the days before. As they walked toward it they had to stop to allow the morning stage to go by, and they both watched it pull up at the small station down the street from the livery. Jarrod was focused on their destination, and so was surprised when Nick grabbed his arm and dragged him to a halt.

"Nick! What's going on? I thought you were so all fired in a hurry to go." He demanded, but looking at his brother he could see that his attention was not on him. Instead he was looking down the street toward the stage. Jarrod followed his gaze, and saw what had taken his brother's attention. A tall, blond man, wearing as tan hat, tan trousers and a blue work shirt had evidently just gotten off the stage. He was walking away from them, carrying a small black carpetbag. As Jarrod watched the figure disappeared around the corner. Nick started forward, dragging Jarrod with him. They practically ran to the corner, but could not catch sight of the figure again among the people on the street. Either he had turned again, or had stepped into any one of several businesses that were already open. Nick gestured toward one side of the street.

"You take that side, I'll take this side. We'll meet at the end if we don't find him." He started forward, but this time it was Jarrod that grabbed an arm.

"It might not have been him Nick. There are others that wear the same clothes and have blond hair. This might be a wild goose chase." Jarrod warned.

"Yeah, it could be. And so could the miner up in the hills. For all we know it isn't even Heath that went up into the hills with the old man. He could be miles away, hundreds of miles. But I don't think we should take the chance of this being a coincidence, do you?" Nick argued. Jarrod could not dispute his brother's reading of the situation. It did seem strange that a man matching Heath's description should just happen to be on the stage here in Redding. They started down the street, slipping into the businesses that were open. Jarrod had worked his way halfway down the block when he heard a piercing whistle. He hadn't heard that particular sound since he had been a boy, playing with Nick out on the range. Nick had been very proud of his ability to make the piercing sound, and had used it whenever he could. Their mother had despaired of ever getting him not to do so in the house. Of course he had soon started yelling instead. AS then, Jarrod knew that he was being summoned. He started across the street to where Nick was standing. His brother was standing near a young boy who had a bundle of papers draped over his arm. He was obviously selling the sheets. As Jarrod walked up, his bright eyes went from Nick to him and back. Nick put a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Jarrod, this is Bobby. He saw a man like we're looking for go toward the train station. He stopped and bought a paper. Bobby here says he had real blue eyes." Nick said meaningfully as he jerked a thumb down the alley leading toward the main street and the station. Jarrod looked down the alley and nodded.

"Very good Brother Nick. Looks like you finally found a reliable witness. Have you given him something for his trouble?"

"I uh…"Nick leaned toward Jarrod. "He says he don't want to take charity." Jarrod took that to mean that his generous brother had already offered a large sum to the boy, only to be turned down. He looked at the boy, seeing a thin child of only seven or eight years. He had shaggy bond hair that dropped into his eyes, eyes of a sapphire blue. The child was thin, perhaps too thin, and his clothes were ragged but clean. Jarrod had a sudden flash of another blond haired child, doing whatever was necessary to bring in money and too proud to take what he hadn't earned. He crouched down so that he was on eye level with the boy. He took a twenty dollar gold piece from his pocket, and watched the blue eyes widen. He suspected the boy had never before seen such denominations, except in passing.

"I hope that you know that you have been very helpful to us. We have been looking for our brother, and you may have just helped us find him. Do you have a brother?" He asked. The boy nodded. "That's very good. Is he a younger brother?" the head nodded again. The eyes did not leave the gold piece. "Now, if your brother was missing, like ours is, wouldn't you give anything you could to someone who helped you find him?" The blue eye shifted to meet his own.

"I reckon I would give anything to get him back, even if sometime I wish he'd go away. He's my brother." The boy said simply. Jarrod reached out and took the boy's hand in his, and placed the golden eagle in the small palm. He closed the small fingers on the coin.

"Good, then you understand why we want to give you this, to thank you for your help finding OUR brother." The boy opened his hand and stared at the coin for a long minute. Then he looked up at Jarrod who had risen to his feet, then at Nick. He slowly closed his fist around the coin again, and then slipped it into his pocket. He bit his lip.

"I hope you find him, your brother I mean. I would sure miss Billy, and my momma would cry all the time if he was gone." The boy said. Nick reached over and ruffled the blond hair, and Jarrod could tell by the look in his eye that eh too was seeing another small blond child, to young to be responsible for bringing in money to his family. "Thanks misters." He said, and took off running down the street. Nick and Jarrod exchange looks, and Nick shook his head at whatever he saw in Jarrod's eyes. He wasn't ready to talk about his now.

They went down the alley and came out near the station. There was no sign of the man they had seen on the platform. They went into the building, and came to a halt just inside the door. There at the ticket window, his back to the door was the man they had seen. They exchanged glances again. Finally they stepped forward until they were standing behind the other man. They could hear the clerk talking as he prepared the ticket, a ticket to Sacramento. Could Heath be going home?

As he stood there waiting to see the man's face, Nick suddenly realized that this could not be Heath. His mind went back to all the times he had tried to sneak up on the boy at the ranch, wanting to catch him off guard, to startle him, to put him at a disadvantage. He had never succeeded. Heath on the other hand had always been sneaking up on Nick. He moved smoothly and silently, and he was always aware of who was around him, and would have at least turned to see who had walked up behind him He looked at Jarrod and shook his head. He saw the puzzlement in Jarrod's eyes. He didn't take the time to explain. He had started to turn, when he saw the patch. It was a long patch of slightly bluer material on the right arm of the blue shirt. He had seen that patch before, had caused the rip that it covered, and had known shame for the first time over the treatment he was giving the man that was his brother.

It had been a hot afternoon over five weeks ago. They had been working on a fence together, one of the few times that they had done so. Nick had been pulling the barbed wire while Heath hammered in the nails to hold it in place. It was tiring and dreary work in the heat. The stretch of fence they were working on seemed to go on forever, and even though they were making good time, Nick had been frustrated. He had been unable to keep from making suggestions as to how Heath should do something, and when Heath had simply gone on doing what he had been doing all along, Nick had felt the anger that so quickly came to the fore with his new brother boil up in side. He had simply let go of the strand of barbed wire he had been holding, and had instantly regretted the action. He saw the wire swing rapidly toward Heath, and only his brother's hair-trigger reflexes had kept the sharpened wire from cutting across his face. Instead he had swung up his right arm, and the twisted barb had torn through the blue material and ripped into his arm. Heath had not made a sound, but his blue eyes had turned icy blue and had glared in anger at Nick.

He had gone to his horse without a word, and washed the wound with water from his canteen. He had found a rag in his saddlebag, and had wrapped it around the wound. Then he had come back to where Nick had stood like a statue and picked up the hammer again as if nothing had happened. Nick had tried to apologize, sickened at how he had let his anger take control, but Heath had refused to so much as look at him the rest of the day. Nothing had been said at the table that night, and Nick had noticed that Heath had been wearing the patched shirt a couple of days later. At first he had assumed that Heath wore the shirt as a taunt, rubbing it in Nick's face that he had driven him to such petty measures, then after an uninvited, and completely inappropriate visit to Heath's room one afternoon when he had known the younger man was out on the range, he had found that Hath had only two shirts, the one he was wearing that day, a tan color, and the blue one with a patch. Evidently his mother had discovered the same thing not too long after and had all but dragged Heath into town on a Saturday to buy some shirts. Only the steadfast demand of the small woman had prevailed on the young man to buy two new shirts for use on a daily basis. The two shirts had been among those things Heath had left behind.

This might not be Heath, but he was wearing his brother's shirt. Nick had to act. He reached out and grabbed the man's shoulder and spun him around. The clerk cried out in surprise, and Nick heard Jarrod call out his name, but the man made not a sound. As it turned out neither did Nick as he found himself staring down the barrel of a small derringer that had appeared from seemingly nowhere and into the man's hand. Looking past the barrel of the small, but deadly gun, Nick could see that this man was older than Heath by a good fifteen years, maybe more. His blond hair, that which could be seen under the hat, was a shade darker than Heath's and the blue eyes were more the color of Jarrod's rather than the sky blue of his younger brother. The eyes were just as cold as Heath's had been that day of the barbed wire, and Nick was wondering if he had made a larger mistake than just thinking this man was his brother.

**Continued...**


	3. Chapters 15 thru 20

_**Careful What You Wish For**_

**Chapters 15-20**

**by kashkow1**

**Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.**

**Chapter 15**

Heath sat on a small rock on the edge of a stream, listening to the sounds of the night. There were the regular night birds, the burble of the stream, and the sounds of the men back at the camp about 50 feet away in a small clearing near an old cut bank that kept the fire out of sight. Heath looked up at the stars. It was nearing ten o'clock, and the men were going to sleep now. He would be on watch for another two hours, and then he would be relieved by another man who would watch through to four, then another man would watch until they moved out the next morning. Heath had chosen this spot because anyone coming up on the camp would have to pass nearby, and there would be little chance of the guard being seen. Heath shifted his rifle on his lap and shifted to a more comfortable position. In another few minutes he would get up and do a patrol around the camp, making sure there was no movement.

Huckmeister had said they would reach the claim tomorrow, and after setting up the sluice boxes they would begin working it the following day. The teamsters would haul the dry gravel to the stream to be worked through the sluices. Huckmeister was figuring that with all the help they would only be there for a week or two. Heath would set up round the clock guards with his men. He had five men besides himself, and he planned to have two men on guard at all times for four hours at a shift. Any longer and he felt the boredom would make the men inattentive, and that could be trouble. When not on duty the guards would be sleeping or helping out around the camp with chores. Then, once Huckmeister was sure that the main lens of pay dirt had been worked, they would pack up and return to Redding to assay out. Heath had wondered at the number of mules, but Huckmeister had assured him that the lens was gold rich, and large. It would be a potent draw to the lawless element. Heath planned to roam the area around the camp on a regular basis looking for signs of watchers. He reckoned that anyone who DID find them would wait until the gold was mined before striking, and that the best time to hit them would be when they were on the move and not dug in and ready. It was going to make for a tense trip back to civilization.

For now Heath was content to go along with the old saw that Aunt Rachel used to say, "Sufficient unto the day are the troubles thereof." He wasn't going to borrow trouble, but neither was he going to let it sneak up on him either. If there was going to be an ambush, he would go into it wit his eyes open, and his hand on his gun. The men he had chosen were good men, good fighters, and they would back him in any fight. It was a puzzle to Heath why when he thought of the possible fight to come he wished he had Nick at his back. Nick was more likely to shoot it than protect it, but still he found himself longing to hear the booming voice, and feel the security of knowing that Nick Barkley was there. He had a feeling, again not knowing why, that with Nick at his side there was nothing that could not be accomplished. He would even feel more comfortable with Jarrod there. The lawyer might be in the city for a good portion of his time, but there was a whipcord toughness to the lawyer that was hidden beneath the smooth exterior. Jarrod would be a good man to have at your back in a pinch. There had been few times in Heath's life when he had been around men that he could count on in a fight, and he had allowed himself to dream…to think that maybe at some time in the future, it didn't have to be right away, he knew how hard this all was, he could be considered one of the family, and be entitled to backup he could count on whenever he needed it.

For too long he had been alone. He had come to realize that in the last few months. It had been a necessity after the war. He had been a teenager in the body of an old man. With the mind of a lunatic it seemed. He could not stand to be inside for any length of time, even standing in a corral for any time at all started to raise the hairs on the back of his neck and make his skin crawl. He hadn't been fit for polite company, and so he had taken himself from it, from the towns, from the people, from his mother. He had retreated to the mountains where he could see for miles, and the sea where he could see forever. He had kept himself free of any encumbrances, except the need to send what money he could back to his mother, Finally he had gotten to the point where he could be with other men and not watch them suspiciously. Where he could spend some time with a woman, and enjoy the simple pleasures of the feminine company. But even with the renewed comfort with the company of others, he had still kept mostly to himself. When he traveled he traveled alone. Except for when he was playing poker he kept to himself in the bunkhouse or saloon. He preferred work that he could do alone rather than with others, riding fence, nighthawk, trailbreaker, etc.

But that had changed once he had gone to the Barkley ranch. He had fought his way in, and hadn't realized what it would mean. Having others that cared for him, who noticed if he came in at night, or didn't eat, or didn't have but two shirts to his name. At first he had stayed at the edges, watching how the others interacted, leaning what was expected of him, and what wasn't. He was surprised at how easy it had been to slowly become one of the group; to meld with the flow of their lives. He had allowed himself to believe that it was permanent, and that had been his downfall. He should have kept to himself. There, but not theirs. He could have done it. He had resisted before. He had been asked to stay on many ranches, offered a place that could have been his for life. Foreman, head of the breeding program, one man had even offered to make him his heir, if he would only stay and run the ranch for him until he died. He had refused them all, knowing without knowing how that it wasn't where he was supposed to be. Then he had found where he was supposed to be, and it hadn't worked out. He couldn't, wouldn't, take what he had come to want so badly at the cost of what Nick wanted. He had been surprised at that. He had recently come to think of himself as selfish. He had thought only of himself for the last seven years. He hadn't thought about what his need for solitude had cost his mother, or the two women that he considered his aunts. He had sent money when all they really wanted was him. He now understood the value of family, the strength that the closeness could give you. Would his mother have fought harder to live if he had been there? Would it have been the difference? He would never know. But he would not think of himself first again, he would give the family a gift equal to what they had offered him, the freedom to live without shame. They had taken him in, offered him a name. The least he could do was give it back to them clean. He shook his head, tired of the thoughts that kept coming back to him. He had analyzed this until his head hurt. Thinking about it wouldn't change anything, and it just brought the hurt back up, not that it had really gone. It was a burning fire in the back of his mind. He needed to let go. H had done it before, released his ties on those things he held dear, for their own good, or for his, and he needed to do it again now. His train of thought was brought to an end when he was relieved for the next guard shift.

The next day they arrived at the claim. Heath was not best pleased by the lay of the land. He left the others to set up the camp as he prowled the area, seeing where they would need to watch for possible thieves, or maybe more importantly, someone watching their progress. He did not intend to be caught unawares. A healthy dose of suspicion kept a man alive. Determining in his mind where he would put the sentries he returned to the camp and sent two men out. Huckmeister came up to him and watched as Heath surveyed the camp. The old man smiled.

"I can see you're not pleased with something youngun. But you got to remember I wasn't thinking about defending the claim, just mining it. I only can claim so much land." He said.

Heath shrugged "Got to make do with what the Lord sees fit to give us. We'll move some of that deadfall timber over so that we have cover if necessary. Where you figuring on setting up your sluice?"

The old man led him to the side of the creek, which at this time of the year was running high still with the snow runoff from the higher mountains around them. The water was muddy brown. The section of Huckmeister's claim that edged the stream was in what amounted to an eddy behind a rocky outcrop. Huckmeister waved at the outcrop.

"I figure that we put the head of the sluice there on the end where the water is running. Feed it right in and set up a gate. I'll run the sluice out over the eddy and let the runoff go on downstream. Get your feet wet taking out the black sand, but it's better than toting bucket of water through the day to feed the sluice."

Heath nodded in understanding. The sluice box, a method of washing the dirt and gravel to winnow out the lighter, non-gold parts would make this a lot quicker than trying to pan out everything by hand. They would be able to work nearly round the clock with some lanterns, and depending on the size of the lens, be out of here in a few weeks time. Of course the heavy materials, called black sand, would have to be worked off by hand in the gold pans, but Huckmeister was an expert at it, and said that several of the teamsters were also pat hands at it. It shouldn't slow them down too much.

It being late in the day the designated cook had a pot of stew bubbling on the fire, and some biscuits cooking in a dutch oven. The smell of the food was enticing. They were using the last of their dried meat, and Heath knew that he would have to start hunting for some fresh meat for the camp tomorrow. It would give him something to do other than toting gravel or standing guard. The country was perfect for deer, lots of brush for browsing, and abundant water at this time of the year. The local deer should not be overly wary of hunters due to the remoteness. He would go early tomorrow morning and see what he could see. It would also give him a chance to survey the surrounding area. Later that night heath was once again on the guard duty. He had planned it so that the guards would walk the perimeter of the camp, passing each other as they would, making sure that no one fell asleep or stayed too long in one place. He had traded his riding boots for a pair of soft moccasins that he had acquired from a half-breed friend several years back. The man had needed money, and had nothing to give in exchange except the pair of moccasins made by his full-blooded wife. Too proud to take the money without returning like value, he had practically forced them on Heath. They had proven to be very well made, made of chewed buckskin. They were much more comfortable for waling than the riding boots, and they allowed him to move quietly through the forested area. He quickly learned to make just enough noise to let the other guard know when he was approaching after almost getting shot when he surprised the man. The other guard had been embarrassed, and Heath had gently teased him the next several times around. It felt good to laugh, he felt like he hadn't been able to for a long time.

It wasn't that he hadn't laughed in the last several months. He had found that in Audra he had a sibling that enjoyed laughter. Once she had gotten used to him, had accepted him, she had started to tease him. She would kid him about his solemn face and about how his hair stood up in a cowlick sometimes in the morning. Heath had even gotten comfortable enough to let his own sense of humor come out with her. He had been the only one to come in for lunch one day when Mrs. Barkley and Silas were in town shopping. Audra had been in charge of lunch, and had decided that she needed to cook something, instead of simply making sandwiches. He had taken a bite, and had almost spit it back out. It was horrible. He had managed to force it down by eating quickly, but that had backfired when she offered him more. Evidently the look on his face had given him away because Audra had gotten red in the face and had stomped her foot at him like some angry filly.

"Heath Barkley, that is perfectly good stew! Don't you tell me it isn't. Just because Jarrod, Nick, and Eugene think I can't cook doesn't mean you have to get on the bandwagon, too. Why I enter my pickles every year at the fair." She declared. Heath looked at her closely and could see that she wasn't hurt at his not liking her food, and se he sat back in the chair, reaching out to snare a piece of Silas' fresh baked bread that Audra had sliced.

"Have you ever won anything?" He inquired. He could see by the blush in her cheeks that she hadn't.

"No. But there are a lot of people who enter. Everyone can't win."

"How long you been entering?" he said as he slid his bowl as far away from him as his arm would reach. He didn't want her trying to sneak some in on him.

Another tide of color swept up her cheeks, and the proud little chin rose in the air in a way that reminded Heath of Nick. "Since I was eleven, but that is beside the point." She pointed to the large pot of stew she had created. "I put exactly the same things in that stew that Silas puts in his, cook it the same amount of time, and you cannot tell me that it is not as good!"

Heath leaned further back in his chair, tilting it up on its back legs, and pretended to consider what she had said. His eyes fell on a picture that hung on the wall of the kitchen, and he felt a smile tugging at his lips, but suppressed it as he looked seriously at Audra. That picture was a bone of contention between Nick and Audra. Nick, had painted the picture at age 8, during an art class. The teacher, who Jarrod swore was trying to curry favor with the Barkley family, had declared it a work of art and made much of it. The young Nick had demanded that the picture be hung somewhere in the home where everyone could see it. After a good deal of hemming and hawing from his parents, who agreed the picture was hideous, Silas had suggested the wall in the kitchen. It had hung there since then. Heath suspected that Nick was not really all that fond of it, having grown out of the stage where he wanted the attention regardless of the source. He thought that his brother insisted on the picture remaining just to irritate his siblings. "Seems to me that painters all use the same paint, same brushes, same canvass, but some don't produce as good a picture as others do. I reckon that might be the case with your cookin'" He looked pointedly at the picture. Audra followed his gaze, and gave a horrified gasp. She started around the table and Heath lowered the chair to the floor and moved quickly to keep the table between them. She dodged the other way trying to catch him. He went the other way. As he came even with the kitchen door he made a break and was out the door before she could get around the table. He heard her yelling a threat after him as he trotted toward the barn. It had made his day lighter, and had started a continuing string of teasing that they engaged in.

Aside from that he had found himself slowly regaining the sense of humor that had left him in Carterson, or maybe even earlier. He found himself joking with Duke, or one of the men that had accepted him. He laughed with Jarrod over something that the lawyer related about his day. He shared a smile with Mrs. Barkley as Nick came into the house with a bellow. Then there was Nick. As the months had gone along Heath had found himself having to stop himself from turning to Nick to share a thought, observation, or a laugh. He knew such familiarity would not be welcome, and had felt a surprisingly deep pain that it was so. For some reason that lack had been so much more significant than the abundance he had found elsewhere. Why it should be so he didn't know, and he never would now.

The next two weeks went by quickly with all the men working hard. The lens proved to be just as large as Huckmeister had thought, and Heath was impressed with the amount of gold they were taking out, Huckmeister felt that it might be worth it to return after he had cashed in the results of this trip and work the rest of the claim. The lens might have the bulk of the gold, but the rest of the area might yield a fair amount of gold as well. At that point he could afford to pay for others to work it. He might even be able to expand the claim by taking on partners who could claim portions on either side. The whole area might prove to be rich. Huckmeister had little time for prospecting beyond his own boundaries however as he and the others spent their time panning out the black sand. Heath assigned another man to stand guard at the water's edge near the sluice. The men were most vulnerable there, and he wanted them to have some hope of reaching cover in case of attack. Not that anything seemed to be happening. Aside from a crawly feeling between his shoulder blades starting five days after they had arrived, Heath had seen no signs of them being watched. He had learned to trust that feeling however, and he had been careful as he went out to hunt, and had made sure the other men kept on their toes. When Huckmeister had asked him if the guards were really necessary Heath had simply nodded. He wasn't going to back down on it. It was his job, he had promised to do his best to make sure that the gold was safe, and all he had left was his word.

Finally, three weeks after they had set up camp, Huckmeister decided they had worked the lens out. He was satisfied that the bulk of the easily accessed gold was out. A remarkably large amount of gold dust and nuggets had been winnowed from the gravels, and the mules would be heavily laden on the trip out. Heath discussed his plans for the return trip with Huckmeister, and the old man agreed to follow the younger man's suggestions. They would leave the tents and much of their gear here. That way, not only would they be able to spread the heavy gold load more evenly among the mules so that they could move faster, but anyone watching from a distance might not know that they were gone.

Heath planned to leave the camp as they had left Shasta, in the dark of night. He had made sure that the gold was put into the packs for the mules as it was bagged, thus they could quickly and quietly load the mules and go without to much ado. They planned it all out, and on the night they had decided as soon as the sunset they began to load the mules, working by the light of the campfire only. The horses were saddled also. Three to four men were always sitting around the fire, to keep up appearances, and the guards walked the perimeter. They then waited until it was about the time that everyone should have been asleep. The men moved into their bedrolls, and the fire slowly faded. Once it was gone and only the light of the half moon lit the area, they moved quickly to roll up the bedrolls and moved to their horses. They made good time once they had got out of the canyon they had been camped in. The water had dropped over the time they had been working, and they could follow the course of the creek toward the Trinity. Once they reached the larger river, it would be a few days ride before they would be able to make better time on the wagon road that ran along the river for the supply wagons going to the hydraulic mines. Heath would have preferred to avoid the roads, but moving across country in this kind of terrain was difficult even on unladed horses, with the mules it would have taken much longer, and the longer they were out, the more opportunities existed for ambush.

They reached the mouth of Frenchman's Creek just before dawn. The horses, mules, and the men were tired, and only Elspeth, carrying the food and cooking supplies, seemed ready to go on. The burro seemed to bray with displeasure when they stopped to make camp in the same hollow that they had used the night before they had reached the claim. Heath once again set the guard, this time having two men out, moving constantly. The cut bank would offer them protection from the rear, and the guards would be able to cover the rest easily. Heath wished they could have as good a position on the following nights. He would be moving ahead of the rest, scouting the trail, hunting up possible campsites and watching for any sign of ambush. They kept moving at night, the moon lighting their way. It was slower this way, but Heath felt it was safer.

It was on the third night, as they were camped at the side of the stage road they had reached that morning, that what he had been planning against happened. Heath had been restless all day. He didn't sleep well, but he put that off as being because of the heat. He had already done his guard duty, and someone else was taking care of the cooking, so he grabbed his rifle and slipped into the brush to make his own pass around the camp. He announced himself to one of the guards on his way out, and faded into the brush. He made his circuit, and found nothing that should have the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He stood for a while watching the river flow, and listening to the sounds of the water and the birds. Everything seemed all right, but his hackles refused to agree with his evaluation. He stayed there until the sun started to disappear behind the mountains to the west. They would be eating dinner and getting ready to move again soon. The traveling tonight should be a lot easier, and they would be back in Shasta the day after tomorrow.

He came up on the camp quietly, moving with his usual caution. He kept an eye out for the guard who should be in this area, but didn't see him. Heath stood still and listened. He couldn't hear anyone moving, or any sound from the camp. He had asked everyone to keep the noise to a minimum, and evidently they had taken it to heart. But the guard should have been nearby, Heath started forward again and cast around for some sign of the guard, He found where the guard had been standing when he passed before. He could see the path the man had made through the brush, and he started in the direction the tracks led. He came around a large rock, and found the guard. He instantly knew why he hadn't been walking the perimeter. He was lying face down in the dust, a drying puddle of blood at his side. Heath turned him over, and saw the knife wound in his chest. He spared a moment of regret for the man that had come out to do a job and had found his death. Heath would make sure that the full money owned the man would go to his widow and children. Heath closed the staring eyes and rose to his feet. Griping his rifle tighter he continued on around the edge of the camp, looking for the other guard. He found him, like the first, lying dead in the brush. Heath stood from examining the body of the second man and looked toward the camp. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he did know one thing, whoever had killed these men, they had known. The killer had walked right up to them and stabbed them in the chest. Armed guards would not have allowed a stranger to approach.

Heath's mind whirled. That could mean one of two things. Someone that both men knew had come from town while Heath was out near the river. He or they had killed the guards, and was now in camp. This seemed unlikely since the guards would have been suspicious of anyone that showed up out of the blue. The second possibility was that someone from the camp had come out to the guards, and had killed them. That seemed far more likely, and much more distasteful. If that was so, then Heath doubted that the killer would be working alone. One man could not hope to overpower or kill everyone, or handle the mules should he get away with the gold.

Heath was torn. He could stay out here, safe from the killers, but that wasn't doing his job. If he went into the camp to warn the others, he would have no way of knowing which men were involved. He would have been willing to swear on the honesty of the men he had hired, but Huckmeister had felt the same about his teamsters. It seemed one of them had been wrong. As he was pondering how he was going to handle this, he noticed that there was a plume of smoke coming from the camp. In the last light of the day it was a beacon to anyone looking for the camp. The decision, which really hadn't been much of a decision was taken out of his hands. He rushed forward into the camp. The men were getting ready to leave, and were looking at the man standing near the fire. He was looking shamefaced at the pile of bedding that had landed in the fire, making it smoke. Heath didn't say a word as he grabbed a pail of water that was standing near the horses and dumped it on the fire. He cast a cold blue eye on the man standing nearby.

"Sorry." The man said in a blatantly unrepentant tone, and retrieved the soggy soldering remains of his bedroll. It was one of the teamsters. Heath watched him head toward the mules where everyone was loading their things. He carefully watched who he spoke to, and who spoke to him. A small group of men formed around the one man, there seemed to be four of them. They cast looks in Heath's direction. He stared back for a moment then turned away. He located Huckmeister and went to his side. The old man looked up at him, and was about to say something when he noticed the grim _expression on Heath's face. His bushy eyebrows drew together.

"What is it son? Something's got your tail feathers ruffled." He asked. Heath took the old man's arm and led him aside. He told the old man about the bodies of his guards, and the smoke signal he had just put out. He mentioned the names of the men he had noticed talking together. The old miner shook his head sadly. "Damn boy, it's a shame when greed ruins a good man. I've known Ed Hastings for over ten years. I would have swore he was honest as the day is long. There were some rumors about him being a bit too free at the poker table, and owing money. I put them down as just rumors, wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt. The rest are all relatives of Ed, one brother, two cousins and a nephew. Anything Ed does they'll back him. His brother, Tom, has him a knife that he's real proud of, keeps talking about how he's an expert with it. If I recall correctly he went into the bush to 'take care of business' about an hour ago. What you figure to do?"

"I think that since I just walked into camp and didn't say nothin' they think that I don't know what's happened with the guard. I think they may be planning to take us by surprise just as we are ready to leave. Probably gonna hold the rest of us at gunpoint while they make a get away with the mules and horses. They'll be long gone before we get back to Shasta. I say we brace them now, and disarm them."

"What do we do with them then?" The old man asked. "We'll have a time keeping them under control and moving the mules shorthanded."

"I think we should leave them here. With no horses they'll not be catching up to us. If they were trying to signal someone out there, they'll be expecting help from the inside when they attack, and we'll be forewarned." Huckmeister, unable to offer a second option agreed.

"Do you think we can trust the others? Do we warn them?" he asked. Heath shrugged.

"I would have said we could trust the lot this morning. But now I have to wonder. My three men will back me I think, no matter what I do. I don't know about the other teamsters. I think it would be best to just brace them and get it over with. No use warning them by talking to the wrong man."

The miner slapped Heath on the back in a hearty manner and went back to his gear. He casually picked up the shotgun that was his only weapon, holding it down by his leg. He picked up his bedroll with his left hand, and pulled the two hammers back on the gun. Heath went to his own gear and took it to where Gal stood. He slid the rifle into the sheath on his saddle. It wasn't the best weapon for close work anyway. He also reached down and loosened the knife in his boot. He hoped that they would simply be able to take the men by surprise and leave them here, but he suspected that since they had already killed it was unlikely that they would be peaceable about it. He cast a glance at Huckmeister who was ostensibly checking the bindings on Elspeth's load. The old man nodded. Heath stepped away from Gal, and moved to where he was within ten feet of the small group of men they suspected. Huckmeister, was on his left. Out of the corner of his eye Heath saw the older man bring the shotgun up and lay it across the bundle on the burro's back.

"You boys just step back from the mules and very slowly take out your pistols." Heath said to the five men who were in a small huddle. They looked around at him, surprised. The other men in the camp stopped what they were doing and stared in greater surprise.

"What's this all about?!" Ed Hastings asked, stepping forward a little. He seemed to be the ringleader, though Heath didn't stop watching the others also.

"I think you know what it's about. It's mostly about the two men you all killed out in the brush, and what you were plannin' on doin' with the rest of us. You care to tell us who you were signalin' with that smoke?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. How about we just all calm down here and talk about this civilized like?" Hastings said. As he finished speaking he went for his gun. Heath's hand dropped like lightening to his own pistol, and it was his own colt that fired first, the bullet taking Hastings in his right shoulder. The man spun around and fell to the ground. The rest of the men started to move, but Huckmeister spoke from where he stood. Drawing their attention to him and his shotgun, the double barrels yawning in their direction.

"The rest of you better just stay still." They complied. Huckmeister nodded. "There you go. Seems you ain't as dumb as your kin. Now, real slowly you all take your guns and put them on the ground." He cast a look at the other men, who had been still until now. "The rest of you need to know that these men killed the two out on guard duty. They were probably planning on either killing us or leaving us out here with no horses or guns. Now if you feel that you want to throw in with them, you're welcome to join them in staying here after we move on. Otherwise, you all just stay out of it, and we'll take care of it."

"You can't leave us out here!" Said Tom Hastings. He had lowered his gun to the dust, and keeping a wary eye on Huckmeister, stepped forward toward Heath.

Heath turned his gun toward Hastings, and gave a small humorless smile. "Reckon this pistol, and that shotgun over there, say we can do about anything we want with you. Come to that, given what you did to those two boys out there, we could just hang you all from that there oak. Now step back from the guns, the lot of you, and don't move too fast." The men complied, grumbling. Heath stepped forward and picked up the pistols, staying out of Huckmeister's line of fire. He put the guns well out of the men's reach and then bent over Ed Hastings.

The man was unconscious, but the bleeding was already slowing from the wound in his shoulder. Heath took the knife out of his boot and started to cut the shirt away from the wound. As he did so he heard Huckmeister's yell. He looked up to see Tom Hastings raising a knife to throwing position. Without thinking Heath flipped the knife in his hand over so that the blade was in his hand, and with a sideways flick of his wrist, flung the knife at Hastings. The other man staggered and looked at his chest in amazement, staring at the knife handle that seemed to grow from the center of his chest. He gave a gurgling gasp and fell to his side. He drew in a couple more labored breaths and then stopped moving all together. Heath got to his feet.

"Any of the rest of you want to try somethin'?" he asked. The remaining three men shook their heads. Heath looked at one of his remaining guards. "You think you can get their stuff off the horses and pile it over by the fire?" The man nodded and went to take the bedrolls off three horses. Heath had him take the saddles off the horses and leave those as well. Huckmeister kept his shotgun aimed at the men the whole time. Another of the guards stepped forward and offered to get them some food out of the supplies. Huckmeister agreed. Heath knelt back at Ed Hastings' side and bandaged the wound. The bullet had gone through, so there wouldn't be any lead poisoning, and the man would probably survive.

"You just gonna leave us here, with no guns or nothing to defend ourselves?" One of the other Hastings men asked. Heath quirked the humorless smile again.

"Reckon there can only be so many thieves and murderers out hereabouts. You shouldn't have no trouble getting' out. You might want to consider that we'll be tellin' the law about you, and not just that crooked sheriff in Shasta. Might want to think about that while you're walkin' out."

Heath stood from beside Hastings and looked around. Things seemed to have worked out well for them, but the hair on the back of his neck was still standing on end. He started to turn to Huckmeister, when he heard the guard that had been stacking the things by the fire start to cry out. His cry was cut off by the sound of a shot, which echoed through the canyon. Heath started to turn toward the source of the shot, his pistol already in his hand and coming to bear when he felt a blow to his left side. IT felt like he had been run down by a stampede. He suddenly found himself on the ground, lying on his side. He vaguely heard a voice, a familiar voice, telling Huckmeister to throw down the shotgun. The sun seemed to have finished setting suddenly, as the darkness closed around him, and he knew no more.

**Chapter 16**  
Jarrod felt a chill go through him as he watched helplessly as Nick reached out and grabbed the shoulder of the man they believed to be Heath. Even if this was Heath, Jarrod knew this wasn't the thing to do. He had not been at the ranch much over the last few months due to a heavy caseload, but he had been there enough to know that Heath had hair-trigger reflexes. He had seen it himself one day when the family had been out for an early spring picnic at Audra's instigation. They had gone to the small lake in the western pasture, feasting on Silas' fried chicken and potato salad. Jarrod had opted to stretch out on the blanket in the sun, letting the early spring heat soak into him, and resting his tired body. His mother had settled beside him, a large sun hat shading her face, reading a book. Nick, unwilling to relax in Heath's presence had gone off to fish on his own further down the shore. Heath and Audra, already on easy terms, had gone to sit on a rock at the edge of the lake, and were talking quietly about something. Audra had risen to her feet and started searching around for something on the ground. She found what she was looking for and proceeded to skip the stone she picked up across the lake. Heath shook his head and rose to his feet to do his own looking. There commenced a fierce battle until all the useable stones were at the bottom of the lake. Finally Heath had called a halt, but Audra refused to give up, claiming Heath only wanted to quit while he was ahead. She continued searching for stones, moving further afield. She leaned over to pick up a stone, and came face to face with a rattlesnake, newly out of his winter burrow and in a bad mood about being disturbed. The snake reared up, and would have no doubt struck her but Heath had moved like lightening.  
One moment he had been teasing Audra about not being able to admit defeat, and the next his gun was in his hand and smoking. Jarrod had barely had time to sit up, reacting to Audra, gasp of terror, before the gunshot was echoing across the lake. Before he could rise Heath had sheathed his gun and ran to Audra's side, making sure the snake had not struck her. She had fallen into his arms sobbing in relief. Nick had come charging back down the shore, gun in hand, bellowing questions. It had ended the day, but it had stuck in Jarrod's mind. There was no doubt in his mind that Heath was not a man to startle. As it was, when Nick jerked the man around, Jarrod could instantly see that it wasn't Heath. But this man was nearly as fast, as a small derringer appeared in his hand, and came up to point at Nick. At this range even the small caliber would be fatal. Jarrod raised his hands away form his sides in an effort to appear as unthreatening as possible.  
"We're sorry to have bothered you. My brother thought you were someone else.." he started, only to be interrupted by Nick. Jarrod threw him a frustrated look that his brother ignored.  
"No, Jarrod I didn't think he was Heath, at least not in the end, but I do think he's wearing Heath's shirt, and I want to know why." Nick said in his bossiest tone, ignoring the fact that a gun was pointed at his head. The man holding the gun looked from Nick to Jarrod and back again the barrel of the small gun not wavering. Finally he lowered the pistol, and put it in his pocket.  
"I don't imagine either of you gentlemen have the last name of Howland?" The man inquired coolly with a raised eyebrow. The Barkley's exchanged looks, and shook their heads. "Well, good. That makes things simpler. You have some questions?" he asked, looking Nick in the eye.  
Nick was a little put off by the man's coolness, but he just shrugged it off. He was too focused on his purpose to wonder about the man beyond how he was connected to Heath. He looked around. There didn't seem to be too many private places they could talk. Jarrod, sensing what Nick was looking for waved a hand toward a cafe that was across the street.  
"Perhaps some coffee?" He suggested smoothly. The tall blond man nodded. He tucked his ticket carefully into his wallet.  
"I have to take the southbound train when it leaves in forty minutes. I hope you gentlemen don't have too many questions." He warned, leaning down to pick up the carpetbag at his feet.  
"Not at all. We certainly do not wish to keep you from your train. In fact we are in something of a hurry ourselves." Jarrod said. Nick led the way to the café where they got a table. The blond man ordered breakfast, while Nick and Jarrod asked only for coffee.  
"Perhaps introductions would be in order." Jarrod suggested. "My name is Jarrod Barkley, and this is my brother, Nick. We're looking for our younger brother Heath, and have reason to believe that he is in the area. Your style of dress is very similar to his." Nick snorted. "I tell you Jarrod, he's wearing Heath's shirt! It's not just similar." The blond man smiled gently, sipping at his coffee. He set the cup down. "Ely Whitaker. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He said. "I am afraid I don't know anyone by the name of Barkley." He said, not prepared to reveal anything to these men. The name Heath was rare enough that it seemed too much of a coincidence that the man that had gotten him out of Shasta and the man these two men were looking for was not the same. However, he was not going to repay the stranger's kindness by setting the dogs on him if these men turned out to be someone other than who they claimed. The one dressed in black could be a cowhand, a bounty hunter, or even a lawman by virtue of his dress and manner. The other was no regular cowhand or even a lawman. His words and manner suggested some sort of professional man, maybe a doctor, banker, or lawyer.  
"My brother left our home under a misapprehension…Jarrod started, only to have Nick interrupt.  
"The hell with the fancy words Jarrod. Heath is probably calling himself Thompson, and we know that you know him since you are wearing his clothes. Now enough of this making nice. Where is my brother?" he demanded. Whitaker eyed him coolly and then turned to look at Jarrod who gave him a small smile.  
"My brother is anxious to find our younger brother. You'll have to forgive him. Our brother, Heath, left home thinking that he would not be returning, and we believe that he may be using an assumed name." He didn't wish to get into the story of why Heath had another name. "We, and the rest of our family, want him to come home. We know that he is in the area. We've been able to track him as far as Shasta, where I believe the stage you just got off of came from this morning. I understand that you do not know us, and that you have no reason to trust what we say, but I can assure you we mean Heath no harm." He glanced in warning at Nick who was fuming silently at being dismissed.  
"And since you're wearing his shirt we aren't going to believe that you don't know him, so you might as well admit it." Nick growled. He was becoming inpatient. This man knew where Heath was, and if he didn't start giving them some information soon, Nick was going to take matters into his own hands, literally.  
Whitaker turned his cool eyes back to Nick, and appeared to read his intent easily. He gave a small smile. "I can see that you are anxious indeed, but I don't think I'm going to be much help." Nick felt his heart drop at the man's words, but managed to keep from making a further outburst as the stranger continued. "I met the man I believe might be your brother only yesterday, last night in fact, at a saloon in Shasta." He felt no compunction at telling the men this information. He knew it would not give them any clue as to the current whereabouts of the young man, not that he could really help them on that in any event. He was still not sure that he believed the story these men were telling him, but there did seem to be sincerity in the one man's eyes, and when he said he couldn't help much he had seen a moment of despair in the hazel eyes of the other, an almost gut-wrenching look of loss.  
"Anything you can tell us would be helpful." Jarrod assured Whitaker. He too had felt the let down when the man had said that he couldn't really help, but he tried to remain optimistic. It was more than they had at this time, and it might just give them the information they needed to find Heath.  
"Your brother, if he was your brother, did me a good turn. I had the good fortune to win a rather profitable game of poker last night. Unfortunately the gentleman who I won the most from is a member of a local family that is not known for its tolerance of losing. Your brother suggested that for my health I might wish to leave town, and in fact the area, before they took steps to regain what the young man had lost." Whitaker went on to tell them the rest of the story, including how when he had boarded the stage that morning the young man in question had been there with two other men. They had been watching the hotel entrance down the block. No doubt watching for a mustachioed man in a black broadcloth suit and black hat. Whitaker had left the hotel by the back door, and had approached the stage as soon as it had been drawn up in front of the station. He had thrown his bag up to the driver and climbed in where he was hidden for the most part by the side of the stage. The rest of the customers had loaded quickly and they were away, with Whitaker breathing a sigh of relief. The young man had been proven right, and it had only enforced the gambler's plan. He was not going to another town down the line. He had a destination. He was going home. As he watched the emotions play over the faces of his audience, it pleased him to think that perhaps he could help the young man that had helped him in more ways than he knew, get home also. When he finished his story they sat in silence for a few minutes, absorbing what they had heard. Then Nick got to his feet and left the table abruptly, slamming the door as he went out of the café.  
"Well." Jarrod finally said. His eyes followed his brother out the door and then, through the window, down the street. He knew that Nick was frustrated, and moving was the only way he had to express that frustration without destruction. He sighed. The information gave them a little more help, but if what Heath had told the gambler was true, he was already gone from Shasta, on his way to some unknown place to the west. Jarrod and Nick had looked at a crude map of the mountains to the west, and had not been cheered. They were for the most part unmapped, and rough. There were hundreds of canyons and small streams. The claim could be on any one of them. He sighed again and looked at the gambler who was finishing his breakfast, one eye on the clock. "We appreciate your help, Mr. Whitaker." He said as he pushed back his chair and stood.  
Whitaker offered a hand, and they shook. "Not at all Mr. Barkley. Your brother did me a good turn out of no better reason then he would not see another man hurt if he could help it. It was a very….illuminating experience for a man like me to run into such a person under such circumstances. You can understand that I tend to see the worst that a man can be in my profession. It was a reminder that there is more to life than money and the accumulation of it. It is a gift that I cannot repay. I hope you find him. He wiped his lips with a napkin and stood. He started to reach for his wallet, but Jarrod forestalled him with a wave, and dropped several bills on the table.  
"Thank you Mr. Barkley. I have to go, or I'll miss my train. I find that I suddenly have business back east, and I am anxious to get there as soon as possible. As I said, I hope you find your brother. On short acquaintance, he's a good man."  
"And on longer acquaintance as well, Mr. Whitaker. Have a good trip." The two men separated outside the café, Whitaker heading toward the train station, and Jarrod standing, watching him go. He then looked down the street hoping for a hint of where Nick had gone. He did not see his black clad brother. He started back toward the hotel, thinking that in the end Nick would think to go there. He would use the time to get their things packed, and pay their room charges. They could rent horses again from the livery, and be on their way this morning. They should be able to get well past Shasta by dark, and so their search would begin.  
It seemed that he and his brother were on something of the same track, as when he arrived back at the hotel he found Nick in the lobby, their bags at his feet, paying the clerk. As he entered the building Nick bent to pick up the bags, and with barely a glance at Jarrod pushed past on his way to two horses that stood at the tie rail in front of the hotel. They were both rangy, shaggy looking beasts with rough coats, but good lines. Jarrod took his saddlebags from Nick and tied them on the saddle of the horse he assumed to be his, as Nick was doing the same on the other.  
"I must say you moved swiftly Brother Nick. Renting the horses, packing our things, and checking us out, all in a small amount of time. One could wish for this type of alacrity when I requested some sort of paperwork from you regarding the ranch." Jarrod teased gently. Nick threw him a nasty look over his shoulder and untied the reins of his horse.  
"I bought these jugheads, counselor, if you must know, and if you wanted something worthwhile that made sense, you'd get your papers with as much alacrity as you could want. Now, let's get some supplies and shake the dust of this town off our feet. I'm getting mighty tired of it." Nick growled as he started down the street toward a general store. Jarrod smiled and went after his brother.  
Three weeks later things had gotten to the point where Jarrod had seriously considered splitting up, and arranging to meet somewhere in a certain amount of time, or simply retreating to Shasta and waiting for Heath to return with the miner and his gold. The arguments against the second course of action were numerous, and the first was out of the question. This wasn't country that a man wanted to be riding alone. The fact was he was getting tired of Nick's increasingly bad mood. Not that he really blamed his brother, but growling at everything was not going to make this any easier, or find heath any faster, if at all. They had been on the trail constantly since leaving Shasta, and were starting to run low on supplies. They would have to return to town soon in any event to replenish supplies and to send a telegram to the ranch to let their mother and Audra know that they had been unsuccessful so far. He had taken the time before they left Shasta to send one telling them that he and Nick would probably be out of touch for several weeks, possibly as long as a month. He had hoped when they left that some of the Barkley luck would make an appearance, and they would find Heath right off the bat, but it wasn't to be.  
They had seen some beautiful country, most of it untouched, and some of it ravaged by the hydraulic mines. Jarrod had never been at an actual hydraulic site, and he had been appalled at the destruction. His father would have never approved of the method of gold extraction, despite the ability to find deposits not open to regular placer mining. He made a mental note to refuse the several proposals that were on his desk seeking to gain Barkley participation in such ventures. In any event they had covered a lot of ground, and aside from the large mines, seen few people. Once the hydraulic mines had moved in closer to the headwaters the small placer claims down stream on the Trinity had disappeared, overwhelmed by the debris flowing down the river. There were however a few small ranchers, and a few small hard rock mines scattered among the hills. They had been met with pleasure at the former, and suspicion at the latter. The ranchers were happy to get information about what was happening out in the world, and the miners were suspicious of anyone who looked to be a possible threat. Nick and Jarrod had found out that it was commonly held that if you moved any gold, you did it quietly and with as many guards as possible. There was a gang operating in the area that seemed to be able to elude any effort to capture them. The unspoken part of that was that the local law seemed to be little inclined to catch them in any event, or even make token efforts to appear to be tracking them. Heath's miner had obviously been aware of this.  
It was on the 22 day of their search that they used the last of their coffee, and the food sack was becoming very thin. There was a chance that they could come upon a ranch and resupply, but there was a better chance that they would not. They were near one of the rough roads that led out to one of the hydraulic mines, and could follow it back into town with some ease. There would be no coffee, but the food should last the two days it would take them to get back to town. Jarrod could see that Nick didn't want to go, but he was a practical man, and he knew they had to have supplies. They set out that morning headed east on the road, moving along faster than they had been in the last three weeks of working the canyons. Nick was quiet, unnaturally so. Jarrod wanted to say something to encourage his brother, but he found no words that didn't sound hollow. What assurances could he give? They could come back out resupplied, but there was no guarantee that they would find Heath. For that matter the younger man could have already returned to Shasta and moved on. They would not know until they got there. What they would do in that event Jarrod didn't know.  
"How long would this go on?" Was the question that was going through Nick's brain as they rode down the rough track. It had been three weeks since they left Shasta, and they had covered a lot of ground. As far as Nick was concerned, they just needed to resupply and get back to it. Of course he had to consider his brother, his family and the ranch, but his heart said he needed to find Heath. If Jarrod wanted to get back to his work, fine, Nick would search alone. His family would be fine. Their mother was more than capable of keeping herself and Audra safe and sound. As for the ranch, for the first time since his father had died, Nick almost didn't care. He knew it was in good hands with Duke, and he knew that if there were decisions to be made outside the scope of Duke's authority, their mother could take care of it. In times past Nick had been uncomfortable at the idea of leaving the ranch in the hands of another for any length of time, despite his trust in Duke but now he found that there was something more important. Or rather he had found what had always been important, family, was now applied to another. He simply had never had to deal with a part of his family leaving before, so it had never come down to them or the ranch. He had made his choice in his heart.  
He had used the time as they rode to search his heart about Maria. He had come to a decision. He had gone too quickly into the engagement, drawn by the beauty and spirit of the young woman, and not considering other factors. He found it disturbing that she allowed her father so much say in her life, even in a decision as personal as marriage. It didn't bode well for their future together if she was going to side with her father rather than Nick. He had been spoiled he guessed by his parents marriage. His mother had defied her parents to marry Tom Barkley, and had never wavered in her loyalty to him. Even the revelation of his infidelity with Heath's mother had not broken her devotion to him. Right or wrong, she stood by him, and always would. Nick wanted that for himself, and he had come to realize that Maria could not give it to him. She was as she had been raised to be. Her father's was the voice she heard above all others, and she would be guided by it, even at the expense of her fiancé's wishes.  
To be fair, Nick didn't blame her. He knew that to a man raised in the same atmosphere as she, such things would be expected, maybe even applauded. Don Garcia was certainly being generous in his offering of his ranches for Nick to take over, but the gift came at a high price. Nick had seen himself as bringing his wife to the Barkley ranch, and living there. Raising a family. He certainly would have been happy to oversee the operations at the Garcia ranches, but not at the expense of the Barkley holdings. He had even started thinking that with Heath there on the ranch, he could afford to take some time away, maybe take his wife to see those places that Jarrod spoke of back east, or even in Europe, though he couldn't see himself as some fancy tourist at some museum, or library, like Jarrod had done. It was ironic to him that it was Heath's presence that he had seen as allowing him the freedom to offer his wife the opportunity to travel and Heath's same presence that had been the breaking point for that marriage.  
He had decided that he would insist on an answer from Maria about what her father demanded. If she would agree to marry him regardless of Heath's presence then all would be well as far as he was concerned. If her father protested she could come to the Barkley home. His mother and sister would lend her presence countenance, and after a time that they could REALLY get to know one another, the marriage would go ahead as planned, without her father's input. If she could not, would not, go against her father, then Nick would have to break the engagement. The thought didn't cause as much pain as he thought it would.  
He shook off his thoughts as his horse shied at something on the side of the track, and he was forced to rein hard to keep him from running. He had note the tendency before of the horse to shy at anything that was out of the ordinary, a blowing leaf, a bird taking flight, a shadow on the ground, anything could set him off. Nick had almost found himself on the ground the first time the horse had jumped sideways at a butterfly taking flight. Only his long experience as a horseman had allowed him to shift his weight to stay on the horse, though it was not a graceful move. Jarrod, whose horse seemed perfectly behaved, had had a good laugh at Nick's expense. Nick had roundly cursed the beast, and had made a mental note to be ready. Now, he pulled the horse to a stop and looked to see what had startled him this time. It was a large leafed plant moving in the gentle breeze that moved here near the river. After the stifling heat of the canyons it felt good even though it was still warm. Jarrod pulled up along side him, and smiled.  
"Another equine pirouette Brother Nick. I must admit both of your techniques are improving." He kidded gently. Nick scowled at him.  
"Yeah well, at least he has SOME sprit. That plug you're riding can hardly get out of his own tracks at the end of the day." Nick said.  
"I remind you who picked out these fine examples of horse flesh brother." Jarrod said.  
"Yeah well, the tragedy is that these were the best of the lot." Nick grumbled. He looked up at the sun. It would soon be setting behind the mountains to the west, and while there would be light for some time, they should think about finding a campsite soon. If they were lucky there would be a small stream somewhere ahead where they could have some clean water for themselves and the horses. The Trinity here was a muddy torrent. It would do in a pinch, but why use it if other water could be found. Later in the year, when the heat was truly on, there would be little option. He looked back at Jarrod. "We need to start looking for a camp. It's your turn to cook tonight so…" He broke off as the sound of gunfire echoed around them. Both men were instantly off their horses and in cover, guns in hand, reins held in the other. They looked around as another gunshot rang out, then another. The canyon they were in made it difficult to tell where the sound was coming from, but it seemed to originate from in front of them, further up the canyon. The silence of the canyon was now startling in comparison. Only the sound of the rushing water of the river could be heard. The two brothers looked at each other. The sound of gunfire in such an isolated place was ominous. The fact that the shots were made by a handgun, and not a rifle was even more so. A rifle could have been used for hunting, though three shots were excessive for any but the most inexperienced of hunters. Any such hunter would not be out here. That left other more dangerous reasons for gunfire. Jarrod shifted quietly until he was next to Nick in the brush.  
"Didn't sound too far ahead. Should we go take a look?" He asked. The wise move might be to remain where they were until they were sure that whatever was going on had reached it's conclusion, but that was not the way they had been raised. If someone was in trouble you helped out. Tom Barkley had never stood aside when a fellow man needed his aide, and his sons were made of the same stuff.  
Nick stood cautiously and after a quick look around tied his horse to a downed log. Jarrod followed suit. Nick took his rifle from its sheath, and they started toward the east, staying off the road and moving through the brush as quietly as possible. They had gone about 300 yards when Nick, who was in the lead suddenly stopped. Jarrod looked around his brother's bulk to see what had made him pause, and saw what had caused his brother to stop. A pair of booted feet protruded from behind a rock. Feet in worn brown boots, attached to legs in tan pants. Jarrod felt the blood drain from his face. Tan pants like Heath wore. He looked at Nick. His brother was looking around, searching the brush for any sign of other people. Evidently satisfied they were alone Nick moved forward. They approached the rock, and Nick hesitated again before he took the final step that would take him around it, but this time Jarrod could see that he was steeling himself against what they might find. Finally Nick clenched his jaw and stepped forward. His sigh of relief told Jarrod the story before he followed. Whomever it was that was lying there wasn't Heath. Nick started looking around as Jarrod crouched next to the dark haired middle-aged man that lay on the ground. The clothes were those of a cowhand as were the callused hands. Jarrod moved the vest that the man wore to reveal the bloody wound, but his hand stilled as he realized that what he was looking at wasn't a gunshot wound. This was a knife wound.  
"Nick!" He said sharply but quietly, aware that there might be hostile people in the vicinity. His brother turned quickly at the tone, gun coming up. "He wasn't killed with a gun. This is a knife wound." Nick looked at him in confusion, then came to look at the wound himself. He scowled. Something was going on, and it wasn't going to be pretty. The man had been stabbed in the chest. That meant that someone had walked up to him and done it in cold blood, someone he knew. Before Nick could continue that train of thought they heard noise coming from the direction of the road. It sounded like a lot of horses moving, and men calling to each other. The brothers looked at each other. As one they rose and started forward, moving more cautiously.  
They had gone about fifty yards when they could see the brush giving way to a clearing. Nick moved around the perimeter, keeping to the heavier brush until they could see clearly into the clearing. What they saw made both men draw a sharp breath. Two men were tied to a tree, an old man that both brothers recognized as the miner who had been in Stockton, and a younger man in the clothing of a cowhand, not unlike those of the man they had found murdered in the brush. They had been gagged. What made them both gasp were the three bodies lying in the clearing. One man, his eyes staring at them in death was only about five feet from where they stood, another lay near the smoldering remains of a fire. They could tell he was dead since one hand lay in the still glowing coals. The stench of burning flesh was beginning to fill the air. But it was the third body that had affected them both. This time there was no possible mistake in who it was. Tan pants, a blue shirt and tan vest. Blond hair, almost the same color as Audra's over a pale face. Heath lay on his side facing them across the clearing from where they stood. His eyes were closed, and they could see no movement of breathing.  
Jarrod made a grab for Nick's arm just a moment too late. His brother was moving into the clearing with no thought of whoever had done this still being nearby. Jarrod looked quickly around, staying where he was in case he had to cover Nick. At least the men tied to the tree He could sympathize with Nick's need to know if Heath was dead, but he wasn't going to lose two brothers if he could help it. As Nick knelt at Heath' side Jarrod stepped out into the clearing, satisfied that no one else was around. He had just turned his head back to look at Nick when it happened. Nick was reaching for Heath's shoulder, to turn him on his back when the still form seemed to explode form the ground. Nick was knocked over onto his back, and the younger man was crouched over him with a knife to his throat, and rage burning in ice blue eyes.  
**Chapter 17**  
"Heath!" Jarrod yelled in desperation before the knife could strike. He didn't move, not wanting to startle his brother. The blue eyes turned to him, staring at him as if with no recognition, then they seemed to clear. The blond brows knit together, and a frown of puzzlement came over the younger man's face. He stared at Jarrod for a moment then slowly turned his head to look at the man he had pinned to the ground. Blue eyes met Hazel. Heath seemed to study Nick's face for several long seconds before he pulled the knife back. Then he staggered to his feet, the knife still in his hand as he started toward the tree where the others were tied. He didn't speak to his brothers. As he rose, Jarrod could see that his left side was drenched in blood from just below his rib cage. Nick rolled to his feet, and started after Heath, an angry growl growing in his throat, only to be brought up short by Jarrod's hand on his arm.  
"Nick!" Jarrod said urgently. "He's hurt, and he didn't know it was you. Whatever happened here, it wasn't very nice, and he was just protecting himself. He didn't even know we were in the area." He added reasonably. He saw the anger drain out of his brother's eyes, to be replaced by concern as he looked toward their younger brother. He pulled away from Jarrod and went slowly toward Heath, hands held at his side, and being as non-threatening as he was able. Jarrod started after him, but diverted to the fire where he removed the dead man's hand from the coals. Heath had reached the tree and was cutting through the ropes that bound the two men to the tree. As their arms were freed both men reached to remove their gags.  
"Son you better sit yourself down right now before you fall on your face." The old miner said, looking up at the pale young man who was putting his knife back in his boot with some difficulty. Huckmeister looked beyond the blond to the dark haired man who had come to a halt a few feet behind Heath. "Can't say I was expecting you boys, but I'm glad to see you. Think we could use some help. Those Howland bastards done killed, or almost killed, everybody that was worth a damn, and took off with my gold."  
"They ain't gonna get far with it. You can count on that." Heath said coldly, and started towards where the road was, staggering slightly as he turned. Nick put himself in his brother's path, raising his hands in front of him to place them on the slightly smaller man's shoulders. Heath jerked back, staggering so badly that Jarrod who had come to their side had to grab him to keep him on his feet. Heath jerked away form him to, and staggered back so that he was facing them both. For the first time since they had come he addressed them directly.  
"Don't know why you're here, but I done told you before" he pointed at Nick, "to keep your hands to yourself. Now get out of my way. Any business you two think you have with me will have to wait. I got somethin' to do." He started forward again only to have Nick move into his path again. He stopped, the swaying more pronounced. He was starting to breath heavier, and though Jarrod hadn't though it possible looked paler than he had when they first arrived. The old miner had moved up to Heath's other side, a worried look in his eyes.  
"Son, you best let me and your brothers take care of your side before you go stormin' off. Ain't gonna do any good at all if you just pass out ten feet down the road" He said reasonably. Heath shook his head, looking from one to the other of the men that surrounded him.  
"Ain't no brother of mine, made that clear. Just trash that blowed up on their doorstep for awhile, and now a cleanin' wind done carried me back off. Everybody is the better for it, just you wait and see." Heath muttered disjointedly. Suddenly his eyes rolled up into his head and he started to fall forward. Nick sprung forward and clutched him to his chest. He wasn't able to take the full weight without dropping to his own knees, but he managed to soften the impact of the fall on his brother. Jarrod was instantly at their side, pulling the blood soaked shirt away from the wound. The bullet had gone through Heath's side, and come out his back, It seemed to be in a position where nothing vital would be involved, but Jarrod was not a doctor, and could not tell. The blood loss seemed to be sluggish, but he accepted cloths from Huckmeister to put over both the small entrance wound and the larger exit wound. Huckmeister was tearing a shirt from someone's pack into long strips to use as wrapping, and Jarrod put them around the slim waist to hold the other cloths in place. Nick held his younger brother throughout the process, his focus moving from Jarrod's hands to Heath's face. As Jarrod finished Huckmeister appeared again with a bedroll that he lay out near by, and Nick with Jarrod's help moved their brother to it, almost reluctantly laying him down and covering him with a blanket.  
"I done sent Edwards to keep an eye out on the road, case those fellas decide they really wanted us dead. Don't feel like being taken by surprise twice in the same day." The old man said, peering over Jarrod's shoulder at Heath. "You reckon he's gonna be all right. I gotta say I've grown fond of the boy, don't want to see him end up dead because I trusted the wrong men. Don't rightly seem fair he should die when his kin has caught up to him."  
"He's not gonna die!" Nick snapped in a bellow, and then lowered his voice. "He's not going to die. It takes more than losing a little blood to kill a Barkley, and he's as much Barkley as I am." He said it with a confidence that brooked no argument, as if fate and destiny would just have to make up their minds to do it Nick's way because that was the only choice.  
Jarrod looked at the miner. "I take it you were ambushed, and they took the gold, killing these men and the one we found in the brush?" He asked.  
Huckmeister nodded. "Ambushed and betrayed. There's TWO men out there with knife wounds in 'em from men they called friend. Heath done killed the one that killed those boys, and shot one of the others, but that left the rest of the no good skunks, and those that they signaled to do this." He waved a hand at the two bodies. "They took all the mules o'course, horses too." He paused with a frown. "Don't know what happened to Elspeth. Know they didn't have her, but she ain't here now."  
"Elspeth?" Jarrod questioned. "You had a woman along?" It seemed strange, but she could have been the old man's wife or daughter. It was not unheard of for womenfolk to travel with their men.  
The old man laughed and shook his head. "My burro, boy. Elspeth is my burro. She wasn't having no part of any of them. Gave one of them a good whack with a hoof and ran off. Fool burro is probably halfway back to Shasta by now and just hittin' her stride." As if in response to the man's words a bray came from the bush to the south of them. The burro sounded indignant. Huckmeister let out a whistle, and another bray could be heard. This one sounding almost happy. Moments later the big head of a burro poked out of the bushes and surveyed the men there. She seemed satisfied that the men who had tried to manhandle her were gone, and ambled into the clearing. Huckmeister went and took up her lead rope, patting her on the neck. "There you are old girl. Was wondering where you got off to. You don't be goin' off on your own again, there's mountain lions and bears around here that would see you as dinner on the hoof." The burro brayed in answer, nodding her head in an almost human fashion. Huckmeister looked at the Barkley's  
"Well at least we got us some supplies and bedrolls. I was afraid she'd go scrapin' at the pack against some rock or something. Got a temper she does." He said and started rummaging in the pack. He pulled out another blanket and handed it to Jarrod who spread it over Heath. The old man tied the burro to a sturdy limb and then started putting together another fire, not looking at the man lying dead so close to the remains of the old one. "Might as well stay here for the night, I'll get a fire going. You boys got horses, I assume, want me to fetch 'em in?"  
Jarrod told the old man where the horses were tied, as reluctant as Nick to leave Heath's side. Huckmeister headed out in the direction they had come from. Jarrod rose to his feet and went to the side of the body near the fire. He grimaced at the staring eyes of the man. The bodies needed to be moved, if they were going to stay here for the night. He bent and grabbed the feet of the body, dragging it toward the brush. He did the same with the other. He could have wished to move them with more dignity, but he did what he could with the bodies stiffening. He would have asked Nick to help him, but he had seen his brother's reluctance to leave Heath's side, and he understood the need. An hour later Jarrod had managed to pull Nick away from Heath's side to have some beans and biscuits cooked by Huckmeister. They sat near the fire, and Huckmeister gave them the details of what had happened. He told them about Heath having found the guards in the brush, dead. He spoke of how Heath had told him quietly of the murders, and how they had braced Ed Hastings and his men. How they had thought they had won with the wounding of Hastings and the death of his brother Tom at Heath's knife. But then the others had come, drawn in by the smoke from the fire. Huckmeister had recognized Wild Bill Howland, patriarch of the Howland clan, even with a kerchief over his face. There was no mistaking the eyes and voice of the man. The other men were probably some of his sons. It had turned out that every man of Huckmeister's teamsters had been in on it. He had counted on Ed Hastings to choose men of character, not knowing that the man himself had become corrupted. He had been the son of one of Huckmeister's closest friends, and he had trusted too easily, seeing in the son the character and morals of the father.  
Both of the Barkley's could tell that Huckmeister was deeply troubled by the betrayal of the man he had trusted, and at the deaths of the men that Heath had hired. He told them how Heath had found the men in Redding, cowhands all of them, let off from the local ranches and looking for work to take them through until the hiring season. He spoke of the camaraderie that had gown among the men, and how they had spoken of wives, children and girlfriends back near Redding. He swore that if they should get his money back, that the dependents would have their portion. Of course, given the circumstances, it didn't seem like it was going to be possible to get the gold. Even when they returned to Shasta, they had no real proof who had taken the gold, or killed the men. You could be sure that none of the Teamsters would be around to be caught.  
Huckmeister went out to allow the other man, Edwards to come in and have some food. He had proposed that he Barkley's get some sleep, having been moving all day, and taking the later shifts at guard. They all agreed that it was unlikely that anyone would return, but it paid to be cautious. Jarrod and Nick rolled out their bedrolls on either side of their sleeping brother, and lay down to sleep. The day had been long and fraught with tension so it was difficult for both to get to sleep, but they slept heavily when they finally got to sleep, Jarrod was the first to be awakened for guard duty, and he spent his time walking to keep awake. When he went back to waken Nick he was surprised to see Heath awake and sitting by the fire, staring into it. He went to crouch at his younger brother' side and put a hand on his shoulder.  
"You should be resting. You lost a lot of blood." He said quietly, not wanting to wake the others, as Heath had obviously not wanted to do when he rose. Heath looked around at him, and Jarrod wished that he could see his face clearly in the low firelight. "Done rested all a body needs. Got me some planning to do, and do it best when it's quiet." He looked back at the fire.  
"May I ask what the planning is for?" He asked, sitting down beside Heath. He didn't want to wake Nick yet, fearing that Heath would not react well to Nick's forcefulness. He had known only Nick's anger, and it would be quite a change for the younger man to grasp that Nick actually wanted him to return home.  
Heath looked back at him, and Jarrod again wished for better light as he could not make out his brother's eyes, and he had learned that to really tell what Heath was feeling you needed to be able to look in his eyes, and even then, he had to allow the formidable shields to drop and reveal his inner thoughts. Heath seemed to study him for a long moment then he spoke. "Why are you here Jarrod? Why is HE," he nodded back to where Nick lay sleeping, "here?"  
"Heath. We want you to come back, to come home." Jarrod said simply. Before he finished Heath was shaking his head, looking back at the fire.  
"Don't belong there. Never did." Was all the reply he got.  
"You did, you do belong there. You ARE Tom Barkley's son. You have as much right to anything and everything that any of us have. To think that we would expect you to leave…" he stopped as the blond head shook.  
"Don't make no nevermind who's son I am or ain't. It's just not right is all. My being there hurts everybody, so it don't make no sense for me to stay. Ain't no gain to it."  
"There is gain to it!" Jarrod said firmly. "We all gained family, and Heath in this world there is NOTHING that is more value than that. It is something that you hold onto with your last breath, and that you price above money or power. You gained a whole family and we gained another part of Tom Barkley to ride the land that he gave us, to carry his name proudly into the future. And Heath if you have learned nothing of us in the last few months you should have learned that when it comes to family we will fight tooth and nail to keep what is ours, and that includes you Brother Heath." As Heath turned to look at him the fire flared on some pitch, and Jarrod could see the longing in the pale blue eyes.  
"It don't seem fair.." Heath started  
"It wasn't fair that you made a decision that effects the whole family without consulting us." Jarrod interrupted. "Your reasons are admirable and I personally am moved at the depth of sacrifice that you are willing to make for this family, but that sacrifice will not be accepted." He cast a meaningful look in the direction of the sleeping Nick. "By any of us."  
Heath eyes followed his glance, then turned back to Jarrod, searching his eyes. Jarrod, well versed in following a promising line of questioning while it was hot, continued to press his point. "You have to understand something about us Heath, about the Barkleys. We don't bow to public pressure when we know something is right. Some of the townsmen practically begged father to let up on the railroad, men he had known for over twenty years, friends, but he knew that the railroad was wrong, and he stuck to his guns. There were people who wouldn't talk to us, people who we had grown up with, whose fortunes were tied to the railroad, and who blamed us for father's stand. This is no different now Heath. We asked you to stay because it was right. No matter what anyone says, or does, it was right then, and it's right now, and we want you to be there with us. You talked about the cost being too high for you to stay Brother Heath, well I submit to you that the cost of your leaving is too high for US, and one we will not WILLINGLY pay."  
Heath, who had looked back at the fire as Jarrod spoke, dropped his head down and remained that way for long minutes, Jarrod could almost feel the young man arguing with himself. He was sure now that Heath WANTED to go back. WANTED to be a part of them. The question was could they persuade him that he SHOULD. To give up so much, to act so unselfishly, was the sign of an honorable man, a man like that would be reluctant to return to a situation that he felt would bring harm to those he loved, and Jarrod had no doubt that Heath loved them all. Loved them with a fierceness that was all the more since he had come late to their family. Heath raised his head and looked at Jarrod.  
"The things people say, and not just to me. The people who won't even talk to your mother or Audra because I'm there. Maria's father. Those people aren't gonna go away Jarrod, ever." Heath said intensely. "They got long memories when it comes to somethin' like this. Do you all really understand what it's like? It wears on a body year after year. Hearing about it, livin' with it. I know, and I don't want it to be the same for you, for all of you."  
"No, they won't forget, and that's why you should make the choice to stay. Do you really think that your absence will make those people you speak of forget? They are petty, mean spirited people that we don't need in our lives in the first place. This…change in all our lives has revealed to us those who are our real friends, and those who only pretended to gain favor. Those people won't LET us forget this Heath because it makes them feel better about themselves; because if they do they will have no justification in their own minds for the loss of that favor. I can assure you Brother Heath, that even if you are gone those people that abandoned us out of some misplaced moral superiority will not be welcomed back."  
Heath sat looking at Jarrod, caught in his own argument for leaving. If his being gone would not make things better for his family, then ….dared he even consider it? Could he stay on the ranch, stay with the family? He searched Jarrod's eyes in the firelight, trying to see if the lawyer truly believed the words he said. He wanted to believe it so badly, but could he take the chance?  
Jarrod scooted toward Heath, and then reached out and put an arm around Heath's shoulder. There was a moment of stiffness, as if Heath would shrug off the arm, then he relaxed, leaning into his brother's side as Jarrod had intended. "Come home Brother Heath, you won't be sorry and neither will we." He whispered. He felt a shudder go through the form beside him, perhaps it was a suppressed sob, perhaps t was something else, but in any event it was the only response for a long moment. Finally the blond head nodded once. Jarrod closed his eyes and sent a brief prayer to heaven in thanks for the grace his family had been shown that day. They sat that way for a long time. Giving and taking comfort in the closeness, then Jarrod stirred. "I have to wake Nick for his stint at guard duty. Do you want me to help you back to your bedroll?" he asked. He didn't think that now was the time for the two to work out their differences, and he was also sure that Heath should be lying down.  
Heath sighed and looked over at Nick. He wasn't up to dealing with that brother at this time, he barely felt able to handle Jarrod. Then there was the thing that he was going to have to do. The thing that might just make Jarrod change his mind about him coming home. He finally nodded and let Jarrod help him up and to his feet. A steadying hand saw him to his bedroll, and tucked the blankets around him. He smiled briefly at his brother, and closed his eyes. He listened as Jarrod woke Nick, and to the sounds of Nick heading out to guard duty and Jarrod bedding down in his place. He waited, allowing time for Jarrod to fall asleep, and to make sure that Nick was in place. He very quietly threw off the blankets and with one hand on his side rolled to his knees. He had to stop there for several second, letting the tides of pain slowly diminish, but finally he felt he could stagger to his feet. Once there, and steady he moved quietly to the pack that lay near Elspeth, who opened one eye to look at him. Seeing who it was she opened the other eye and stretched her head toward him for a scratch, which he obliged her with. He found his holster and pistol, rolled up in a bundle in the pack, and put it on. He also took several boxes of ammunition. He checked his knives, glad to find that they were where he had left them. He then went to the two horses, and in the dim firelight looked them over. They weren't the best of horseflesh, but they were serviceable. He ran a hand over their hocks, and went to the head of each. He was sure that the one walleyed one was a shier, dancing around at his own shadow, and the other looked to be a horse that didn't put too much effort out if you didn't demand it. he reckoned there were lazy horses just like there were lazy people. He hoped that his brothers hadn't bought these two. If they had, the seller had seen them comin' a long way off.  
He managed through a series of starting and stopping to get the tired looking horse saddled. By the time he was finished he was covered in sweat, and his breath was coming in gasps that he had trouble keeping quiet. He was not pleased at the time this was taking. If he didn't get a move on he would have to argue with the others. That just wasn't part of his plan. He tied an extra bedroll that had been in the pack behind the saddle, and with a last glance around the clearing he led the horse into the brush paralleling the road. He found the body of one of the guards where he had remembered it to be, and picked up the man's abandoned rifle. He was glad to see that he had remembered correctly and the rifle was the same caliber as his pistol. He moved slowly. Not just because of his wound, but also to keep the noise to a minimum. He emerged onto the rough track almost two hundred yards beyond where Nick would have been standing guard. He then tried to figure out how he was going to mount. His usual athletic leap was not going to work, and he wasn't even sure if he could lift his left foot enough to get it in the stirrup. His problem was solved by the presence of an old snag that allowed him to climb up and simply step into the saddle like some fine lady mounting a sidesaddle. He smiled slightly at the thought, then with one more look back toward the camp he turned the horse to the east and dug in his heels.  
For Nick the hours on guard duty had dragged by almost unendingly. He really wasn't tired, he had gotten enough sleep to keep that from being an issue, but he was bored. He didn't figure there was really anything to guard against, but as Jarrod had pointed out to him the evening before they couldn't take a chance with Heath wounded like he was. Now that was an issue, at least as far as Nick was concerned. How the boy had the strength to jump him, and to hold him down was a puzzle to the rancher. He had looked so bad once he had passed out, and Nick had a chance to look at him. His face was pale and the blood soaking his clothes seemed to be more than any man could loose and still be alive much less on the attack. He had seen the light of revenge in those cold blue eyes, and realized that for all the trouble that the two of them had had, for all the upset that had been between them, there had never been true anger and hate in Heath's eyes when he looked at Nick.  
Even though it hadn't been aimed at him, the look in those eyes had frightened Nick. Not because of the existence of those emotions, he was well aware that he himself had more than enough to go around, but because of the intensity. That intensity was not something that would allow Heath to forgive and forget, even if it wasn't his own gold. He was going to go after those men. The question was when and, at least for Nick, who would be going with him when he went. It went without saying that the boy was in no condition to do much of anything right now. Well, the boy was about to learn what being Nick Barkley's brother meant. The first thing was that you didn't have to do anything alone and the second was that what was done to one Barkley was done to all. When he was well enough the Barkley's would go together.  
Nick had something of a plan. They would find a way to get to one of the hydraulic mines, and buy some more horses. There might even be a doctor on hand at the mine who could take a gander at Heath. Then they would make their way back to Shasta City. Once there Heath could recuperate, then maybe the Barkley men would just see about this local gang of thieves that thought they ran things around there. Nick didn't care who they were, or who they owned in the local law, there wasn't anyone he had ever met who could stand up to a group of determined Barkley's. And if that little scene this afternoon had proven nothing else, it had proven that Heath was all Barkley. Anyone who was willing to take on someone in that condition, and was likely to win at that, had to have Tom Barkley's blood coursing through his veins full strength.  
Nick squinted as the first spear of light from the rising sun found his eyes. He was just starting to turn when he heard someone coming through the brush from the direction of the camp. He drew his gun as a precaution, but put it up when he saw Jarrod come out and look around. As soon as Jarrod turned to approach him he saw the anxious look on his brother's face. Nick stepped forward to meet him.  
"What's wrong? Is Heath worse?" He asked anxiously, that being the only reason that he could think of for Jarrod's _expression. Perhaps the boy had gotten a fever, or was bleeding again.  
Jarrod shook his head. "I don't know how Heath is; that's is the problem. He isn't here, and one of the horses is gone along with his pistol and some ammunition." He stated flatly. "He must have snuck out last night after I went to sleep.  
Nick could only stare at Jarrod in shock for a moment, then he cursed. "He was unconscious!" He bellowed. "How the hell could he be gone?"  
"He was conscious when I came off guard duty, before I woke you up." Jarrod said. "He had made it to the fire and was sitting there just staring into the flames. He must have been planning this then."  
"He was awake!" Nick bellowed, throwing out his arms. "Well that's just fine. Maybe someone could have said something about that when he woke me up."  
"I didn't think that the middle of the night was a great time for you and Heath to settle your differences, Nick. I thought that there would be time for that today. You'll forgive me if I didn't know what he was planning." Jarrod said defensively. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn't going to argue with Nick, they needed to figure out what to do. He put up a hand to stop whatever Nick was going to say. "We can argue about it later Nick. For now we have to figure out what to do."  
Nick started pushing his way through the bush toward the camp. "I know exactly what to do Jarrod." He said over his shoulder. "I have to go after him. Damn fool boy is gonna get himself killed trying to get those men. Even he ain't tough enough to take all of them on alone." Jarrod followed along, keeping well back to make sure he didn't catch a branch across his face as his brother pushed ahead unmindfully.  
"So, you go chasing off after Heath and we do what? Follow along at our leisure and hope for the best? I don't think so." He stated as they entered the clearing. Nick turned on him like a big bear. A finger poked him in the chest.  
"I am not gonna come this far, find the fool boy, and then let him die for some bunch of gold. You do what you want, but I'm going after him, and I'll go over the lot of you if I have to." He said.  
Jarrod knocked the hand aside and moved up until he was toe to toe with his brother. "I don't think you want to try that Brother." He said coldly. "Now if you would care to discuss this calmly. We can work something out. What we are NOT going to do is go off half-cocked. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" the last words he added with gritted teeth, and punctuated each word with a poke to Nick's chest with his finger. Hazel eyes burned into his for a moment, then a small smile lifted one side of Nick's mouth. He threw up his hands.  
"All right Pappy. I won't run off, but we have to get moving. He's got over three hours on us probably, and he'll be tracking them as soon as there's enough light. I…we can't let him do this alone."  
Jarrod looked into his brother's eyes, and saw the worry there. He was about to speak when he realized Huckmeister and Edwards were standing nearby. Huckmeister was holding the reins of the one remaining horse. A bag was tied around the saddle horn, and two bedrolls were tied behind the saddle forming a seat. Nick, seeing Jarrod's attention had been drawn away turned to look at what had done it, and frowned when at what he saw. Huckmeister chuckled.  
"You should see your faces!" He said with a slap to his knee. "Never thought I'd see the day that a lawyer was at a loss for words." He looked from one Barkley to another. "Well, are you boys just gonna stand there and let your little brother have all the fun? The both of you get on the horse and get moving."  
Jarrod blinked at him. "What about you two?" he asked.  
Huckmeister shrugged. "We got food and good feet. We'll head on to the mine. They got some horses we can borrow there. Me and Edwards here will be fine. We done talked it out. Seems best that you two go after that hotheaded brother of yours afore he gets himself into more trouble than he can get out of."  
Jarrod smiled at him, and Nick felt a huge grin forming on his face. He stepped forward and took the reins, No way was he riding behind the saddle. It was after all his horse. Leave it to Heath to choose the steadier of the two, even in the dark of the night. Nick swung up, and put his rifle into the sheath. Then he kicked his left foot out of the stirrup and offered his hand to Jarrod. His brother grabbed his hand and swung up behind him. He looked down at Huckmeister.  
"If you get back to Shasta before we do, will you send my mother a telegram telling her what's happened. I want her to know in case anything happens to us."  
"I'll do it. You can count on it." He said and stepped back as Nick reined the horse around and started him toward the road. As the horse and the two men disappeared into the bushes he gave a shake of his head. He hoped they could catch up with their brother before it was too late, but he had a feeling that the boy was gonna find those men first, and all hell was going to break loose. "Lord watch over ya, boys. Lord watch over us all."  
**Chapter 18**  
Heath lay on the rock promontory overlooking the canyon where the group of men was camped. It was near the end of the day, and the rock was in the shade, but the heat of the day was coming out of the rock. It added to the heat of his own body, nearly equaling the heat of the fever that had developed through the day. He had done well enough the day before, and over the night, then again this morning. The riding was not comfortable by any measure, but he had ridden wounded before, when there had been no choice, and he could do it again.  
He couldn't really say why he felt he had to take care of this himself. He knew, without knowing how, that all he had to do was say the word, and his brothers would be at his side, helping him to do what needed to be done. But he hadn't said that word, had not even consulted with them. He could think of few men that he had ever met that he would rather have with him, but he had not asked them to come. Indeed he had snuck off like some thief, leaving them behind. He felt surprisingly ashamed at that. It was as if he had done them a great wrong. While he was uneasy at that thought, he had not turned back. For a full day he had tracked them, only stopping when the light became too dim for him to see the tracks. His job was easier since the men had not tried to hide their tracks. Of course seeing as how they had the mules and all of the horses with them, it would have been difficult for them to hide. It didn't take an expert to follow the tracks. But they had a head start, and had evidently ridden hard on that first night. They had made good time. At first Heath had though that they might be headed straight into Shasta City, but then they had turned off the track, and headed to this canyon. From the old tracks that were around Heath surmised that the gang had used this place before, possible as a gathering point or dispersal point after a raid. He noted that the various tracks seemed to go off in multiple directions in groups of twos and threes, as if the men didn't want to be seen to come from the same direction at the same time. He supposed that the gang was being discreet in a minor way. Even though they owned the law in Shasta, being excessively blatant about their doings was not in their best interest.  
Heath had found the canyon this morning, and had, despite the added aches and misery of the fever, scouted the area. He had noted the possible entrances and exits from the canyon, and had found himself an elevation. One of the first tenets of sniper training, pounded into them from the start, was that you looked for the highest point with the best view of the target area. Often that had been a tree, or a building, or as in this case, a mountainside. The prominent, overhanging rock had been a bonus, the perfect platform for a sniper. The weapon was not what he would have chose, preferring his Mexican made rifle, but it would have to do. He had sighted in the rifle yesterday. He had paused in his tracking when he found himself near a box canyon. The sound would be contained within it, and he could fire the rifle with out anyone hearing the shots. He had taken the time to fire the rifle enough to find out its quirks and the allowances he would have to make.  
The air here in the side canyon was still, he would not have to make allowances for windage. His shots would be true. He was confident in his ability to place the shots where he wanted them to be, but the question now was exactly where he wanted them. He could kill, and with the element of surprise he could probably kill several men before they had any hint as to from where he was firing. Of course by that time, he would have moved to his second stand, and would be able to take several more. It was standard practice. He could do it in his sleep. He had done it before. A lone sniper harassing a greater force was one of the most effective forms of breaking the moral of the enemy. It was a brutal, cold-blooded thing for a man to do, and Heath had hated every moment of it. The fact that he was so good at it made it all the worse.  
He shook off the thoughts of what had gone before. While he wanted revenge for the men that had died, men who he had hired, it was not for him to make the decision of who lived and who died. He was here for justice, not vengeance. He would not kill if he didn't have to. If nothing else, his skill allowed him that. The men below were sitting around three fires, eating their meal and passing several bottles of whiskey. They made perfect targets against the gray early twilight of the canyon. Heath drew in a breath, and as his body stilled he focused on his first target. As soon as he pulled the trigger he shifted his aim and pulled it again, and again. He didn't even have to look, he knew where his bullets had gone, two shoulders, and a thigh. As he struggled to his feet to move to his next stand, he could hear the screaming of the third man, and suspected he had hit the thighbone. It was a horrific wound, and would probably cost the man his leg. He tried not to think of that as he made his way through the brush.  
A few bullets had been fired, at random places he thought, and now he could hear the men below yelling back and forth. They had scattered as soon as the shock had passed, dragging the wounded with them, into the brush around the clearing. Heath settled into his next stand, and focused on his next objective. What he was doing would be useless if the men just saddled up and rode out. Therefore his next target was the man who was watching the horses and mules that were tied on a line strung between the trees. Heath had paid a visit to that line earlier, ghosting among the brush as he had learned, and making a few adjustments to how the line was tied off. The guard was inattentive, a young man, barely in his twenties it looked to Heath. He found himself wondering for a moment at the chasm of experience that separated him from that seemingly callow young man. They could have been no more than four years apart, and yet Heath felt as if he was an old man in comparison.  
He had heard his mother once tell Aunt Rachel that she most bitterly regretted that he had never had the chance to be a child. He had gone from a toddler to being a breadwinner for the family, gone down into the mines to set charges. He had never really minded it then, liking the feeling of knowing that he helped to keep them all in food and the necessities of life. Not that he hadn't found time to do the things that boys did, but his 'play' was always with a purpose. If he played at tracking an animal, it was to better his talents at hunting for food. If he went out into the woods to play at being a mountain man, it was to find the herbs and food plants that Aunt Hannah showed him how to recognize. If he pretended that he was a rich rancher, caring for his herd of fine saddle horses, he was learning to take care of, and understand, horses in the livery to earn more money for the family. Then he had gone to the army, and his childhood, such as it had been had ended, what innocence of mind that he had managed to retain had been torn to shreds on the battle field, and afterwards…..He couldn't even think of that now, it made his hands tremble, ruining his aim.  
He could see the young man, crouched behind a tree, frantically searching the sides of the canyon looking for where the bullets were coming from. He should have been watching the stock, making sure they were secure. The boy's lack of experience was going to be in Heath's favor. He didn't even have to shoot another man, all he had to do was aim at the block of wood he had tied to the end of the rope, wedging it in the crook of the tree to keep it in place for the time he needed. He squeezed the trigger, and could see the branch shatter. As it did the rope dropped to the ground. He then fired two shots into the dirt at the feet of the horses, and was gratified to see them start to bolt. As they moved the tie rope became useless, and third shot encouraged them on. There were more yells as the horses and mules stampeded through the camp. Men came out of cover to try to stop the horses only to dive into the bush again as Heath placed two shots at the feet of the foremost. He moved again, one hand on his side, to try to still the ache there. His fever was not relenting. He was finding it hard to concentrate, and his body ached at the joints. Several bullets found his last position, and he knew the men had finally gotten to watching for the muzzle flash of his rifle. It would be harder now, but as night progressed, he was in the better position then they were since he could move at will, while they were pinned down. There would be a short time after the sun had set that it would be too dark for him to aim effectively, but the full moon would be rising not long after, and once again he would be in control. They would recognize that fact, and come out looking for him he knew, and so he needed to get to his hidey-hole and wait. He had found the shallow old mine shaft by chance, as he was scouting the area. It was old, possibly left over from the first gold rush over twenty-five years ago. It was a short test shaft, obviously yielding nothing of interest. A large boulder shielded one side and the brush had grown up to cover the narrow opening. It was almost impossible to see in the full daylight. At night, with no moon, it might as not be there at all. Heath had made sure that there were no current homesteaders. He didn't need some cougar eying him for dinner, or a rattlesnake taking exception to the company. Luckily there was nothing to deal with, though there were old signs that something, most likely a bear, had used it as a den. He had left his horse hobbled on the other side of the hill, in some grass near a small stream. The horse could reach the water or the feed, and would be fine until the next morning on it's own. He had left his saddle there, but had brought his bedroll and the bag of supplies with him, stashing it here in the shaft.  
He sat down on his blankets, leaning back against the wall of the shaft. The cold of the rock felt good on his heated body, and he leaned his head back too. Wishing he could spare the water to bathe his face. He couldn't waste the water right now however. He could always go back to the stream where his horse was tied, but that would take time he didn't want to use. He closed his eyes. He would have about an hour before the moon came up. If he figured right, the men would be scouring the canyon looking for him, that and chasing what horses or mules they could find. He didn't figure that was going to work out well for them, since the horses had been skittish from the noise of the shots, and from the direct bullets fired at their hooves. They were well out of the canyon by now, and might not stop soon. Heath loved horses, but he would be the first to admit that they tended to get flighty when they were in a group. Of course the same could be said for most men too.  
Once the moon rose he would go to the next step. He would make sure that the night would not be kind to the gang, not allowing them rest or comfort. He had taken time to sleep some this afternoon, though it hadn't been easy in the heat, so he wasn't tired, and he would be able to go through the night. Tomorrow, while the men below stewed in the heat he would see if they were willing to deal. He suspected that reasonableness was not in their makeup. That meant he was going to have to go to his back up plan. They would want to know what he wanted.  
What he really wanted was to be able to take them all in to the law, and not their bought and paid for badge in Shasta. But he was one man, and there were at ten of them, though they had three wounded now, four if you counted Hastings. That still left six men to deal with, and he couldn't have done that when he was well, much less feeling poorly like he was. Well, there was an argument for having asked his brothers along, he mused, though he suspected that they would not have allowed him to come along. They didn't understand, possibly couldn't, why it had to be him that did this. He had to get the gold back, and he had to make every effort to make sure that those that killed his men, men he had hired, paid for their crime. Tom Hastings had paid for his killings with his life. His brother was going to pay as well. Then there was the man or men who had shot the two men in the camp. He or they would also be brought to justice. As far as Heath was concerned, all were guilty by association, but he had to realistic about his abilities to handle the prisoners. Three or four was his limit, at least in this condition.  
Then there was the gold. He would have to do something about that, since there was no way he was going to be able to take it with him along with the prisoners. That was where his hidey-hole came in again he figured. He would get the men he wanted, then drive off the rest. Once he was sure they were gone, he would secure the ones remaining and then move the gold into this small shaft. It would be miserable work; hot, and with his side paining him like it was, slow. He would have to be careful to leave no sign of what he had done, or it wouldn't be there when he got back.  
He moved a little, trying to ease his side. It was a constant, gnawing pain. When he last looked at it, this morning, it had showed no sign of infection on the side he could see, but he didn't know what was with the back. He had cleaned it with some cool water, doing the best he could, then bound it back up. He settled back against the wall of the shaft and tried to keep his mind away from the pull of the fever. He didn't want to end up sleeping the night through. As a way of staying awake he turned his mind to what his brother's were doing right now.  
He imagined they weren't any too happy with him about now. Especially Nick. Heath wished he could have had a chance to talk to Nick, though usually they didn't talk much when it came down to it. But somewhere in the fog of the day before yesterday, he somehow had an impression of being cradled against a firm chest, and cared for with rough but careful hands, and spoken to with concern. For some reason he thought that chest and those hands, that voice had been Nick's. He smiled a little at the thought. He had waited so long for Nick to come around. All he had really wanted had been tolerance, he had never expected anything beyond that. The thought that there might be more….it made his heart pound with anticipation for his return to the ranch. He believed that Jarrod had been telling him the truth last night when he said that everyone wanted him to come back, including Nick.  
Of course Jarrod himself might not be too happy with him if he was to tell him that it had been their talk at the fire that had set his mind on doing what he was doing. He had been planning since he had first come to after being shot and realized that two more of his men were dead, Huckmeister and Edwards were tied to a tree, and he himself was lying in the dirt bleeding. The last had been of no great nevermind, for himself he wanted nothing. If he wasn't good enough to protect himself that was one thing, but there were others involved. As Jarrod had spoken to him of coming back to the ranch, of being a Barkley once again, he had realized that he couldn't wait for others to help him. He had to be a Barkley. He had to do what was right in his own mind, and not let anyone tell him different, even his brothers. So, instead of arguing with them, he had chosen his course and set out. He hoped that Jarrod would understand that.  
Thinking of his brothers and what it meant to be a family, his mind naturally turned to the woman that waited back at the ranch. Victoria Barkley was a puzzle to Heath, even after the months he had spent there. She was his father's wife. The woman his father and his mother had betrayed with their actions, even if his mother hadn't known that Tom Barkley was married. But even with this being so, she had been nothing but gracious to him. She had opened her home to him, had treated him as she had her own children, had worried about his clothes, and if he ate enough. It was beyond him that anyone could be so……he didn't know the word for it. He had never known that such a person could be. Somehow though, he felt that SHE would understand what drove him, maybe better than his brothers would. She would not approve of him doing it wounded, and might have expected him to ask his brother's for help, but she would understand why he did it.  
He rolled his head toward the entrance to the small shaft, and could see the shadow of the bushes outside against the rock. The moon had risen. It was time to go back to his plan.  
**Chapter 19**  
Jarrod leaned back wearily against a tree trunk. They had stopped here just over an hour earlier, when it had become too dark for Nick to continue tracking the gang. Jarrod was sure that if the moon had risen immediately that Nick would have insisted that they keep going. Instead, with the lag between sunset and moonrise they had stopped and made their small camp. They had left the track earlier that day. For the last day and a half they had followed the wagon road, headed to the east. It was of no great surprise. Nick had managed to find some tracks of Heath's horse, nearly lost among the tracks to the thieves and the pack mules. It seemed their brother was wary, and took precautions that his own passage would not be noticed if anyone should look. They had found no sign of where he had camped the night before, and only occasionally did Nick find any sign that he had passed before them. It had given both the older Barkley's an interesting insight to their younger brother's character.  
For Jarrod the last day and a half had been long hours of riding, broken by all to few hours of sleep the evening before. Nick had been restless, and had shown no sign of settling down. They had traded off using the saddle, but it hadn't been comfortable for either man. Jarrod, who was not used to extended time in the saddle, even after the three weeks searching, had the worst of it. He had come to miss Rufus, the lazy horse that Nick had bought. He had named it after an exceptionally lazy hound they had as children. Even a day of forcing the horse to work would have been easier than what they had gone through. That was one reason that once they had set up camp he had elected to stay here while Nick looked around. He understood Nick's frustration and need to work it off. He just didn't have the energy to do the same for himself.  
He had not really expected it would take this long to find Heath. Jarrod had seen the wound in the younger man's side. It had done relatively little damage, but he knew it had been painful, and he suspected that by now Heath would be even more miserable than when he had first been shot. The riding could not be helping the wound. He hoped his brother was taking care of himself. If the wound got infected, there was no doctor out here to help. Jarrod leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  
They didn't know why the gang had turned off the road. Another day at the pace they were moving and they would have been back Shasta City, but instead they had turned off. Nick had speculated that they had some sort of hide out somewhere out here where they could regroup or even keep fresh horses. It could be a ranch, or even something as simple as a place with good water and feed for the horses that was out of the way of the road and not likely to be found. They had decided to make a cold camp tonight in case the gang was close by, not wanting to tip them off with the light or smoke. That was one reason that Nick was out stalking the brush. He wanted to be sure that the gang was not close by. Jarrod was almost too tired to care. Jarrod was just nodding off when the silence of the night was shattered by his brother's voice. He was surprised to see that the moon had risen while he mused.  
"Jarrod! Come on Pappy get up off your butt. We got a brother to find." He said. Jarrod opened his eyes to see Nick leading a horse into the small clearing they were using for a camp. Even without a fire he recognized Rufus. He could only stare in amazement as Nick tied the horse next to their one horse and threw a set of improvised hobbles on the ground. Nick gave him a huge grin. "The boy's out there somewhere Jarrod. I can feel it. We just have to figure out where without getting in his way. I think his tracks are leading up the hill…" Just as Nick spoke a rifle shot could be heard faintly echoing through the canyon they were in.  
Jarrod raised an eyebrow and gave Nick a small smile. "I believe that has just been made a little bit easier Brother Nick." He said. Nick grinned back at him He went to the horse and pulled his rifle out of the sheath. He unslung Jarrod's rifle from where it hung from the saddle horn, and handed it to his older brother as he stood and came to Nick's side. Jarrod checked the load, and settled his holster on his thigh more comfortably. "Ready when you are." He said. Nick nodded and started out toward where Jarrod assumed the tracks were.  
It took them nearly forty minutes to get to the top of the hill. They heard three more rifle shots in that time, and a fusillade of pistol shots. Both Barkleys wondered exactly what was going on. From what Huckmeister had said there should have been ten or possibly even more men in the gang. Heath was alone, and it seemed ludicrous that one man could hold a group hostage. But there didn't seem to be any other explanation though. If the gang was firing on Heath, they certainly had the firepower to root him out of almost any position. The brothers followed a game path down the hill, careful to stay to the shadows so as not to reveal themselves to the various gunmen. As they started down the path another rifle shot echoed through the canyon, the sharp crack almost deafening in the confined space. They couldn't tell exactly where the shot had come from, but the answering shots from down below showed them that they were indeed witness to the seemingly impossible. Heath had virtually 'treed' the gang.  
They came to a promontory of rock that hung out over the canyon, and crawled out to see what they could in the silver light of the moon. The rock gave them a commanding view of the canyon floor. They could see that there was another small stream here, and there was a good-sized clearing where what appeared to be the remains of several fires glowed faintly. As they watched several shadowy form moved from one place to another, and another rifle shot cracked. One of the shadows fell and a yell of pain could be heard. Jarrod had by mere chance been looking to the right and had seen the muzzle flash of a rifle. It appeared to be on the same level that they were on the canyon wall. He grabbed Nick's arm and pointed in the direction. Nick looked, and nodded. Both men were forced to duck when what appeared to be a random pistol shot from below struck a rock near them and caromed into the night. Several other shots were also loosed, but as far as they could tell there was nothing that went near what they assumed to be Heath's position. Obviously the men below had not seen the flash. They started making their way around the edge of the canyon, using the faint game paths that swerved up and down the hill. Obviously deer and other animals traveled the canyon, moving between the streams and browsing in the brush. They had moved about halfway to their target when they heard a voice call out from below.  
"You men out there. We don't know who you think you're dealin' with, but you made a bad mistake here. Now you done hit a few of us, reckon you know that, but we're willin' to let bygones be bygones, and call it all a mistake. If you leave now, we won't be chasin' you. You got my word on that." There was a pause, and Nick and Jarrod assumed that Heath wasn't going to answer, and then they heard his voice. They couldn't tell where it was coming from, and knew that those below wouldn't be able to either.  
"Seems to me a man who'd shoot down two men in cold blood, and allow two others to be killed in the same way ain't exactly one who's word is worth much." Was the reply. The older Barkley brothers exchanged looks at the sound of Heath's voice. It didn't seem to be as strong as they were used to and it seemed strained. Due to the acoustics of the canyon Heath didn't really need to raise his voice much, maybe that was it. Jarrod and Nick kept moving toward where Jarrod had seen the muzzle flash. They didn't want to startle Heath but they had to move quietly. Both hoped their brother was not in the shoot first and ask questions afterwards mood.  
"Don't know what you're talkin' about. We're just a group of hunters. We was out for bear, and enjoyin' ourselves when you come upon us and started shootin' with no warning. That ain't too neighborly." Came the voice from below.  
"And I reckon you boys always just happen to bring along pack mules loaded with gold along with you while you're hunting." Heath observed. It sounded as if they were getting nearer. His voice had a sense of direction to it now.  
"Seems you got somethin' on your mind partner" came the voice from below after a pause. No doubt they hadn't counted on anyone knowing about the gold. "Why don't you tell us what you want?" Jarrod noted that they didn't bother to deny the presence of the gold. "I want the men that did the killing. Ed Hastings and whoever killed the men at the camp. I want the gold left where it is, and I want the rest of you to start walking out of this canyon and don't look back. So far the shots have been to wound, that can change real quick."  
"Seems you're asking a whole lot, friend." Said the voice below. "Looks like you get everything you want, and all we get is a long walk back to town. That ain't the way I work."  
"First off, I ain't your friend. I'm the man that's gonna kill you if you don't do what I say. As to what you want, I really don't care. Maybe you should have thought on that before you started killin' people that had done you no harm and stealin' what ain't yours." There was a longer pause from below.  
"Who are you?"  
"You don't need to know that. I don't know you and you don't know me. Everyone will be the happier if we just keep it that way." Jarrod and Nick could hear the faint sound of voices speaking down below, but could not make out the words. The gang was discussing the ultimatum.  
"Seems to me that you're all alone up there, bucko. There's a lot of us, and you got to sleep sometime. We can just wait you out or we'll find you when it gets light. We don't got to deal."  
"You may be right about that.." Heath started to say, when Nick suddenly spoke up.  
"Then again you may not be. You might want to be rethinking that deal." He said. Jarrod rolled his eyes at Nick's impulsiveness, but he might have done the same himself if Nick hadn't done it first. It had the double benefit of making those men below aware that Heath was not alone, and let Heath know they were there. There was silence both from below and in front of them. Evidently, the men below were discussing this new development. They had assumed that Heath was alone, and were prepared to try to wait him out, but now that there was evidence of more than one person holding them hostage here in the canyon, they had something to think about. The response from their brother was more immediate. From the bushes behind them came a low voice.  
"I'll thank you two to put down your rifles and pistols and step back from them. If you don't want a hole in ya, I'd do it real careful." They could clearly hear the click of a hammer being drawn back. A quick glance over his shoulder showed Jarrod a rifle barrel shining in the moonlight, but Heath was out.  
"Heath, it's us, Nick and Jarrod. We've come to help you." He said in the same soft voice. He was sure that if the men below were to hear them, they would start firing.  
"Jarrod?" the voice asked. The rifle barrel didn't waver. "Step outta the shadow into the moonlight and let me see ya." As Nick started to move the barrel shifted toward him.  
"JUST him." The voice said and the barrel shifted back to cover the lawyer. He stepped forward into the full light of the moon. There was silence for a moment, the rifle barrel staying steady on his chest. Finally Heath spoke again.  
"Well, you look sure enough like Jarrod, and I reckon that if the other one of ya was to step forward he'd look like Nick." There was the sound of a humorless laugh. "Ain't it strange what a man's mind can come up with when he's fevered." The last was murmured almost to himself. The rifle barrel waved toward the path. "You all hallucinations can just be movin' on. I ain't got time for ya." The barrel started to disappear into the bushes, but before it was gone Nick stepped forward and spoke.  
"We aren't no hallucinations! We're really here. We came after you to help get those men down below and get the gold back." He stopped his forward progress when the rifle barrel swung back to point at his chest. "Put down that damn rifle and come out here where we can see you and we'll prove we're real." There was no answer, and the rifle stayed steady on Nick. He was getting mighty tired of having guns and knives pointed his way. The fact that on two instances it was his younger brother doing the pointing didn't make it any better.  
To Heath, standing in the shadowed brush, looking out at the two figures in the moonlight was like looking at two ghosts. Only he knew that Nick and Jarrod weren't dead. At least he didn't think they were. Things were getting a might fuzzy. He figured his fever was burning along right well now, and he really wasn't all that sure exactly what was what. He had managed to stay focused enough to continue to keep the men below corralled, but it was only a matter of time, as they had pointed out until he was unable to continue. He could retreat to his hidey-hole, but that wouldn't get the job done. When the sound of Nick's voice had overridden his just a while ago, he had known that he had gone over the edge. Why would Nick be here, weighing in on his side? Nick hated him. He looked again at the specters that looked so much like his older brothers.  
"Don't reckon you need to see me, seeing as how I'm the one with the hallucinations. Sure wish you was real though. I could use the help. At least Jarrod would help. Don't think Nick would." He observed to them, seeing no harm in it, it was nice to have company. For so long in his life he had done everything alone. He didn't really notice the two men exchanging glances.  
"Why do you think that we're hallucinations Brother Heath?" Jarrod asked. He was deeply worried, not only at Heath's statement about his fever, but also the way he seemed to be rambling to himself. It was bad enough that they were in a tense situation. But if Heath was seriously ill that made it worse, and even more so still was the fact that they were on the business end of a rifle in the hands of a man that didn't think they existed.  
"Left you back at the camp, two days gone now. 'Sides why would you come after me? It ain't your job. Ain't your responsibility. Ya two are just wishful thinking on my part ya see, from not wantin' to be alone no more. You'll go away soon enough." The speech did not make Jarrod feel better. "But we DID come after you Brother Heath. Because you are our brother and what's important to you, is important to us. That is how family works. We followed the tracks like you did, and they led us here." He hoped that Heath was not too far-gone to understand the logic of that statement, and the truth of it.  
"See that's how I know you're not real. Jarrod might come, he's that way, and you sure talk like him, but Nick, he hates me, wishes I was dead. The rest, they all forced me down his throat like bad tastin' medicine. Wouldn't lift a finger to put me out was I on fire. So ya see, you ain't real." Heath felt slightly silly arguing with a mirage, but the persistent ghosts would not leave. He rubbed his forehead off on his sleeve keeping the rifle steady. Though when he thought of it, why should he keep a rifle on hallucinations? Wasn't as if they could do anything. He was shaken from his musings when the one that looked like Nick stepped forward until the rifle barrel seemed to be against his chest. He was even more startled when the hallucination grabbed the rifle barrel and pulled it so that it pointed directly at his heart.  
"If you think that I hate you, that I want you dead, then you pull that trigger. I admit that I haven't been welcoming, or even civil most of the time." Nick's voice was filled with self-disgust. "I may have wanted you gone, or that you never had come, but I never wanted you dead. I've had time to think, this last month, and I was wrong. Wrong about you, wrong about my..our father, wrong about my attitude. You're family. If you'd give me another chance, I promise that it'll be better. Maybe we……can be friends as well as brothers. But you have to make the decision. I'm here. Jarrod's here. We aren't just hallucinations. We're here to help you. If you'll just let us." Heath listened to the words with amazement. He had never even imagined that he would ever hear such words coming from Nick's mouth. Not even in a fever would he even consider that there was the barest possibility. But here was a…..he didn't know what it was, standing before him, feeling for all the world as if it were there, and talking in words that he had longed to hear. Evidently in his shock he waited too long to reply, because the hand holding the rifle simply jerked it out of his hands.  
"Enough of this! Get out here, and let's go down and get those sons of bitches, and get back to the ranch. We got work to do. The cattle ain't takin' care of themselves you know." Nick growled. He was tired of pussyfooting around. He wanted to get this over with and get things back to normal. "Get out here boy, now!  
For Heath it was like a sudden splash of cold water, clearing his blurry mind. This was not hallucination. This was Nick. Nick, saying he wanted another chance, to be friends, to be brothers. Who didn't hate him, didn't want him dead. Who wanted him to come home. Heath realized that both of what he had considered apparitions of his fever were really his brothers. He stepped forward out of the brush, coming face to face with Nick. His older brother reached out slowly and put a hand on the back of Heath's neck, shaking him gently by the hold. A smile crossed the moonlit features.  
"'Bout time you quit hiding in the bushes, boy. Now we got some work to do before you pass out." The heat he could feel from Heath's skin shocked Nick. The younger man was burning up from within. He looked over his shoulder at Jarrod. "Give me that canteen will you Jarrod. Little brother here is hot enough to catch the bushes on fire. Maybe some water will help." Jarrod handed Nick the canteen, and Nick uncapped it and handed it to Heath who drank greedily. Once his thirst was slacked for now he recapped the canteen and handed it back to Nick. He looked from one brother to the other.  
'You all are really gonna help me bring them boys in?" he asked. At Nick's nod he felt a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. They were really going to do this. "Reckon we better get to it then, won't get done if we stand around jawin'" He bent and grabbed his rifle out of Nick's hand and started down the path in the direction they had come from, not waiting to see if they would follow. Somehow, something inside said that they would, said that from now on they would always be there for him, watching his back. It was going to take some getting used to, but he figured he could do it if he put his mind to it. He found himself grinning as he led his brothers down the path.  
Several hours later Jarrod was lying on the ground, just over forty feet from the clearing where the gang of men were holed up. His rifle was leveled over a small fallen tree, aimed toward where he had last seen a man moving. The moon had set behind the mountains, and it was much darker than it had been, but the Barkley brothers had used the last of the light to their advantage while they had it, and now were using the darkness to equal advantage. He knew that to his right about twenty feet Nick was in a similar position, just as Heath was to his left.  
Heath had led them back to a small cave that he told them was a test shaft from a miner; probably back in the 1850's. Both Nick and Jarrod had been surprised at the hidden place Heath had found and realized that their brother could have retreated here if he had to, and probably escaped any detection by the men below. Maybe he hadn't needed as much help as they had thought. They had crawled inside, and Heath had allowed Jarrod to look at his wound in the light of a match held by Nick. The front looked all right, but the exit wound was showing signs of infection. It took both Jarrod and Nick to convince their brother to let them build a small smokeless fire and take care of the wound then and there. In the end he only agreed after convincing Nick to go out and send a few rounds into the clearing to make sure that the men below didn't get any ideas about making forays out into the brush. Nick agreed and went out to collect some dry wood and survey the situation. Indeed, the men below were moving around, possibly in preparation to move up into the brush. A few shots had them diving back into the cover. After Jarrod tended the wound, Heath agreed to stay lying down on his blanket, his head pillowed on his arms. They worked out a plan on how they would corral the men below, and take them all into the law. They talked through all the possibilities, trying to plan for any eventuality. Finally they had a plan set, and Jarrod reached out and touched Nick's arm, as he was about to speak. He nodded his head at their younger brother. Nick looked at Heath and noticed that the sky blue eyes had closed, and that he was breathing slowly and evenly. He had fallen asleep. Nick jerked his head toward the opening of the shaft and they exited quietly.  
"We got about two hours before the moon is down enough to make our move. I say we let him sleep. It might help with the fever, and he needs what rest he can get." Nick said. Jarrod nodded in agreement. It made good sense. There was no reason for Heath to be awake, and Nick was right that he needed the rest.  
"I'll take the first watch, to make sure they don't get any ideas down below. Why don't you go in and stay with Heath. I think one of us should be with him when he wakes, so that he doesn't get confused and mistake us for hallucinations again." Nick agreed, and Jarrod took his rifle and went to a position that Heath had described that allowed a good view of the canyon floor. He had to fire twice to discourage movement from below. He stayed out for an hour, and then Nick came out and traded places with him. Heath continued to sleep. When it became time to enact their plans, Jarrod gently woke his brother. Heath blinked at him in puzzlement for a moment, but then Jarrod saw the memory fill his eyes.  
"Boy Howdy. I was thinking that I had been dreaming the whole thing. Guess I ain't as sick as I thought I was." He observed.  
Jarrod smiled at him, and gently patted his back, then helped him to his feet. "We are indeed real Brother Heath, and ready to help you bring the men below to justice. It's about time to put our plan into action. Are you feeling up to it? Nick and I can take care of this if you want to stay here and rest/" Heath was shaking his head before Jarrod even finished.  
"I started this, and I'm gonna finish it." He declared. He picked up his rifle and started toward the opening then stopped and looked back at Jarrod who had knelt to put out the small fire. "I can't tell you how much this means to me, Jarrod, you and Nick comin' along to help. Can't say that I ever had anyone who would take on my responsibilities like this afor."  
Jarrod finished snuffing the small flame and stepped up to his brother's side as they moved out of the cave. He put his hand on Heath' s shoulder. "As has been said before, what matters to you matters to us. That is something you can count on from here on out. That's what family means."  
"So I'm getting to know/" Heath said, a small smile quirking his lips on one side. He looked at the moon, gauging the time of the night and how long they had. "We best get to it. We gotta be in position before the moon drops behind the mountain. We only got a bout a half hour. Where's Nick?"  
Jarrod pointed out the direction that Nick had taken, and followed Heath as they went to get their brother. Once they found Nick lying on the overhanging rock where they had first observed the canyon, they headed downward until they were near the clearing. They then split up and went their separate ways. Thus it was that Jarrod found himself laying in wait for the signal that would start the next part of the plan. He heard the sound of a night bird from his left, and prepared himself for what was to come.  
"We're tired of waitin' on you to make up your minds. If you won't give up- those that did the killin', then you're all goin' to jail. You men just move into the clearing and put your weapons on the ground. One of you can relight one of the fires." There was a brief round of humorless laughter from the bushes on the other side of the clearing where the men were. "Do you think we're stupid? We come out and put down out guns and light a fire so we're backlit for ya. I say we just stay like we are until it's light and then we see who puts down their guns. There can't be that many of ya."  
"You got one chance and five minutes to make your choice." Heath's voice rang out again. Jarrod readied himself. He suspected, as did his brothers, that the men were not going to give up; the pull of the gold was too much for the likes of them. They would rather take the chance that they could shoot their way out rather than take a chance of loosing the money.  
The five minutes went slowly. Just as the time expired there was a fusillade of shots from the bushes across the clearing, filling the night with the roaring of guns and intermittent light of the muzzle flashes. Bullets chewed up the leaves over Jarrod's head, and thunked into the log in front of him. He knew they were raking the area, hoping to kill or injure. After several minutes the firing slowed then ceased all together. As was the plan, Jarrod remained where he was, as his brothers would be. He hoped they had been as well protected as he. They really didn't need any more wounded Barkley's. After several more minutes, Jarrod watched as several figures moved out of the bushes across the clearing. His eyes were acclimated to the darkness, and while he could not see details, he could see movement, and the bulk of the men moving. From the looks of it all of the able bodied men were moving. Heath had suspected this would be the response of the gang, and had suggested what he thought they should do. It had seemed a good plan, and both Nick and Jarrod had agreed. As such Jarrod held his fire, and the expected voice called out from his right.  
"You men stand still and drop your weapons. NOW!" Nick voice roared through the canyon. Heath had smiled slightly as he suggested that Nick be the one to give the final warning, saying that he had the best voice for it. Nick had scowled at his younger brother and grumbled at Jarrod's laughter. It had been a light moment in what had been a mostly grim night.  
The men in the clearing turned toward Nick's voice and started shooting. As they did, Jarrod popped up and started firing, knowing that Heath would be doing the same from his position, though he could not distinguish Heath's shots from the rest of those echoing through the canyon. He saw two of the men fall. A third man fell to the ground screaming, and almost as soon as it began the firing stopped, the remaining men threw down their guns and raised their hands. Nick popped up from where he had been and moved forward, his pistol in his hand. Heath appeared out of the darkness and picked up the discarded weapons. Nick had the remaining men kneel down and cross their legs behind them. It would be difficult for them to rise quickly, and one man could watch them easily. As soon as he saw everything seemed under control Jarrod stepped out in to the clearing with his rifle. Heath slowly put together some dry wood and leaf litter and lit a fire in the remains of one of the campfires that had faded down to ashes. As the flames rose to light the clearing Jarrod followed Heath over to the other side of the clearing. Heath moved to stand behind a tree, leveling his rifle into the bushes.  
"You all in there. If you got guns toss 'em this way, and keep your hands where we can see 'em. If you feel like dyin' then make your move now." He ordered the men who they knew where there in the shadows. After a few moments first one then two more guns were tossed out. Jarrod moved into the dim area, and under Heath's study rifle helped the wounded men into the clearing with the others. There were only five men alive out of the original gang and teamsters, Howland, and three of his sons, was dead. Heath scowled at one of the wounded men as Jarrod helped him walk by, and the lawyer suspected that this was one of the Hastings teamsters, possibly the one that Heath had used his knife on back on the trail. The man did have a shoulder wound, though it was bound and he could not see if it was a knife or bullet wound. Finally all of their prisoners were in one place.  
Nick continued to stand guard as Jarrod and Heath tied the hands and feet of each, including the wounded men, who protested. Heath simply suggested that maybe it would be easier to take them back if they were dead, and they quieted quickly. Once they had everyone secured the three brothers gathered near the fire. Heath sat tiredly down on the ground, leaning against one of the logs that had been drawn up to the side of the fire pit, and sighed heavily. It seemed as if it had been years since they had been at the ranch, sitting around the table, or in the parlor. He was so tired.  
Jarrod and Nick sat down on the log itself, on either side of their brother. Rifles were kept at their sides, though the gang looked defeated. All three had nothing to say, the exhaustion of the full day and most of the night catching up with them now that the action was over. Jarrod scrubbed one hand over his face, frowning at the stubble that covered his cheeks. He looked over at Nick, and smiled at the picture his brother presented. Always with a heavy beard, and now covered with dirt, grass and leaves, his brother looked more like a criminal than those they had just captured. Nick caught sight of his smile and looked at him askance.  
"Why are you sitting over there grinning? I feel like hell, and want to sleep for the next four or five days." He growled.  
"A good plan Brother Nick, and one that I heartily endorse as long as it includes a bath, but one I fear must be delayed until we return to civilization, such as it is. One of us has to watch our prisoners, and we'll have to go and find the horses and mules as soon as it gets light enough."  
"They won't have gone too far." Heath muttered. "There's a meadow of sorts down the canyon where they ran, lots of good grass and water. I figure we'll find most if not all of them there. Them we don't find we can probably do without. I don't figure we need to tote the dead ones back. If anyone wants 'em, we can tell where they are."  
Nick looked down at the blond head at his knee, and hesitantly put a hand on the broad shoulder that brushed his thigh. To his surprise, and secret enjoyment, Heath didn't shrug it off. The fever seemed to be less than it had been. Obviously cleaning the wound and the short rest had helped. Of course that didn't mean that it couldn't come back if the younger man over did. Nick thought about what had to be done. " I figure I'll go after our horses first. Jarrod, you and Heath can stay here and watch the prisoners, and when I get back you can go after the horses while I rest up and Heath keeps watch." He suggested. He wasn't sure how Heath would take it, but his younger brother was nodding slightly as was his elder.  
"I agree Nick. It sounds like the best plan. Can we make some sort of torch for you to make it easier to get back over the hill if you are going now? It will make it faster for you." Nick nodded and he made up a torch using some cloths and coal oil that they found in the supplies. Heath stayed sitting by the fire, gazing into the flames. Nick was soon ready to go, and he nudged Jarrod and jerked his head toward the fire, where Heath's head had fallen back against the log, obviously asleep. Jarrod nodded at his brother, content to do the guarding himself until Nick returned.  
Four hours later the sun was lighting the eastern sky, and Jarrod was rounding up the horses and mules that he found where Heath had said they would be. Nick had returned quickly with the horses, and had taken over guard duty. Heath was still sleeping soundly when Nick returned. Jarrod had decided to get an early start so he could be at the meadow by the time the sun rose, and get the horses as soon as possible. He had little trouble collecting the contented animals.  
Back at the camp, things were quiet. The prisoners were quiet, most of them sleeping or unconscious. Nick didn't really care which. They had made their own beds, they could sleep in them. He went and sat down near his sleeping brother. He found himself staring at the sleeping man, Looking for, and finding, the similarities in the face of this brother that the others had seen from the beginning. The fine features were more like Audra's than his or Jarrod's, but Nick could see something of their father in him now that he allowed himself to do so. He looked away for a moment, at the fire that was dying down. As he looked back he found himself staring into the sky blue eyes that were open and watching him.  
"Jarrod says you want me to come back, and I seem to recall you sayin' somethin' of the same. Course, I ain't recallin' anythin' really clear. If it was all wishful thinkin' I can just go now and save everbody the trouble. All you got to say is that I left and you couldn't stop me. I can make sure ain't no one gonna find me next time."  
Nick felt an almost panic as he thought of his younger brother disappearing again, and this time doing such a good job that they would never know where he had gone. He knew that the younger man could do it, he had seen his planning ability, and would not ever underestimate the boy again. He chose his words carefully, which for him was hard. He was used to just saying what he thought. Just putting it out there and letting people deal with it as they would, that was his style. But this was too important, to crucial to the happiness of not only himself, but also his whole family. He stared into the fire as he spoke.  
"I was a fool." He started, wanting to get it out of the way. Obviously Heath didn't really remember much about what he had said before, other than the tone of it. "I let my anger at father, our father, get in the way. I blamed you for what he did, and that was wrong. I should have just taken you for the man that you are, and I would have seen that you are my brother, and that you disserve everything that we all have had since we were born. I would have seen what a good rancher you are, a good hand all around and ….a good man. One that you can trust to say what he means and mean what he says. You are as much a Barkley as I am, maybe more, since you considered me your brother even when I was being a……" Nick had to stop himself, as he almost said the word that had hung between them for months. He shook his head. He had never before considered how words could wound, as surely as a bullet, and he had thrown wounding words at his brother since the beginning. Looking at Heath for the first time since he had begun to speak he saw a small smile lifting one side of his brother's mouth, a quirky smile that Nick found quite appealing. He found himself wanting to see that smile more often.  
"You acted outta love for your family. I wracked it all up, made everything harder. I didn't think about anyone but me when I came, and I was angry…angry at everbody. I should have thought it out, maybe done something different."  
"You wouldn't have come, knowing what you could have?" Nick asked.  
Heath shook his head. "At first it wasn't about the havin'. It was about the gettin'. Gettin' what was mine, the way I saw it. I didn't know about the havin'. But it quit being about that when I talked to your mother that night in the house. I was gonna go, but she told me to be Tom Barkley's son, and that meant bein' with you all at Semples place, and later it meant workin' the ranch, and bein' there at the house. It meant eatin' dinner with you all, and sittin' in the parlor after and listen to you all talk. I come to realize that the money was nothin', it was you, all of you, that I really wanted. But if it's gonna cost you all too much, I can go."  
Nick shook his head, and met the sky blue eyes that were becoming more and more familiar. "Don't. Don't give up on me, on us. Family doesn't count cost. Family just counts. You stay, work with me, grow with me. There isn't anything out there that can stop the two of us working together."  
Heath listened to the words that were coming from Nick, and felt them going into his heart, where they would stay for a long time. As Nick finished, Heath heard a horse approaching and saw Jarrod riding into the clearing, leading a string of horses and mules. Heath looked back at Nick, and smiled. "Looks like you forgot big brother Jarrod. Think maybe you aught to make that the three of us. Seems all us Barkley's is hard to stop." Nick followed his gaze and smiled. He reached out and grabbed Heath by the back of the neck, giving him a shake.  
"You go that right, little brother. We get what we want when we put our minds to it." He stood and stretched. He hadn't had enough sleep, and he was hungry for something that wasn't cooked over a campfire, but he was feeling pretty good. They might not be back to town yet, but they would be soon, and once they were, and the remaining gang was handed over and the gold was somewhere safe, they could go home. Together. He looked from his older brother to his younger and took a deep breath. "Let's get this on the road. I can just about taste that rare steak and cold beer that Jarrod is going to buy us." He said grandly. Heath smiled as he listened to his brothers squabble back and forth as they gathered up the gold packs and loaded the horses.  
**Chapter 20**  
Victoria Barkley stepped down from the train in the railhead town of Redding, and turned to watch as Audra followed her down from the back of the Barkley train car. She had received a telegram from a man by the name of Huckmeister, saying that Jarrod and Nick had had gone after Heath who had gone after the men who had killed several of the guards on the gold that he had just mined. He couldn't say where they had gone, but when he and the remaining guard had arrived in Shasta neither the Barkley brothers, nor the men they were sure had robbed them, where there or had been heard from. Victoria had read the telegram and called immediately for Duke McCall. She had ordered a carriage around, and had told Dike that she and Audra were going to Shasta. McCall had protested, but had bent before the force that was Victoria Barkley. She had sent the man that had brought the telegram back to town with two dollars and a message to the railroad station to hook the Barkley car to the next north bound train. She and Audra had packed quickly and had arrived in Stockton just before the train had left. After traveling overnight they had reached Redding early the next morning.  
She made arrangements with the stationmaster to have the Barkley car sidelined and with Audra in her wake went to the Sheriff's office. The Sheriff was happy to tell them what he knew, though there was little beyond the suspicions that he had about certain persons, including the Marshall in Shasta. He was able to tell them that Huckmeister had come down from Shasta the previous day and was even now in a hotel near the west end of town. He had offered to escort them there, and she had accepted his escort gladly. She had not expected the large numbers of men in town. There were workers of all races present, mostly idle, evidently waiting for the work to begin on the railroad north. She was well aware of how things could get out of hand when so many men were in one place, all anxious for work. Tensions could grow, fights could start: English against Irish, Irish against Chinese, Chinese against Polish, and on and on. She suspected the Sheriff was in town because of the crowds, and knew he would have a number of deputies patrolling the town.  
They arrived unmolested at the hotel, and the Sheriff took his leave of them, after offering whatever help he could. He was anxious to clean out the corruption in the county seat, but was currently consumed with keeping the peace here. Victoria inquired after Huckmeister at the desk, and was told he was in. She sent a message up to his room, asking to meet him in the parlor of the hotel. If she had been alone she would have gone to his room, but she was not going to set a bad example to Audra. A gently bred woman did not enter the hotel room of an unrelated man at any time. They withdrew to the slightly shabby parlor, and waited. Huckmeister appeared in the doorway, taking in the simple elegance of the two women in their traveling clothes. Victoria rose to her feet when she became aware of his presence and went to stand before him. She offered a hand.  
"Mr. Huckmeister. I am Victoria Barkley. I received your telegram yesterday. I would appreciate it if you would tell me the full story." She waved toward the settee and chair.  
"Please sit with us. Perhaps you could start with how you became acquainted with my sons."  
The old miner squinted at first Victoria and then Audra. "Didn't rightly know that Heath was your boy when I hired him on. He was usin' another name, Thompson it was. I have me a claim, out yonder in the Cascades. Rich one, richest I ever had…" he went on to tell them about the trip out, and how they had mined the lens of gold. He couldn't help but brag about all that they had taken out. He then grimly told them about the betrayal of the men he had hired, and the death of the guards. He told them how Heath had been wounded, and how Nick and Jarrod had arrived. He described Nick's wrath when the next morning they had found their brother gone, and the determination of both to find him and help him bring the thieves and killers to justice. Huckmeister made sure that the two women knew that he had faith in Heath, that he believed that if he did catch up to the gang, that he would indeed bring the gold back, along with however many of the gang survived.  
"And you believe that Heath, acting alone, can bring this gang to justice." Victoria asked, wondering at the depth of faith in this man that had known Heath such a short time,  
"You come to know a man pretty well when you live with him round the clock for a month or so. That boy is as honest as the day is long. He's the type that will follow you to the ends of the earth to right a wrong he done you, or to find justice for a wrong you done him or his. And I got to tell you in all my years I ain't met many men as able as that boy. If he set his mind to getting' back that gold, and catchin' the men that stole it and killed those men, then they might as well give up right now."  
Victoria found herself moved at this statement of faith. Heath was not her son, but he was the son of her husband, and she was proud that he was a man that could inspire such faith. She smiled at the old man. "I am grateful that you sent the telegram, and that you have shared this information with us. Could you give us the directions to a good hotel in Shasta, and perhaps the names of some people we could trust?"  
"You goin' up there?" Huckmeister asked, looking form Victoria to Audra again. "It's pretty rough. I don't know that ladies like yourself ought to be in a town like that alone."  
"Be that as it may," Victoria said, " We are going. I have been in many such towns, and we will be fine. Do you have any suggestions for the hotel?"  
Huckmeister recognized that the woman was not going to be talked out of going, and shook his head. "I can't let you all go up there on your own. Was plannin' on going back myself, once I got some men together down here. Edwards, he's out finding some men so we can get back out there and try to find your boys."  
"That had been my intention as well. I would appreciate it if you would allow me to pay their wages." Victoria said. She had been unsure how to best get quality men, and was grateful that Huckmeister and Edwards, who knew the men here would be selecting them. Huckmeister hemmed and hawed, but finally agreed. It was decided that they would take the noon stage up to Shasta and would await Edwards and the men there. Victoria and Audra retreated to the train to pack, and Huckmeister went to find Edwards and tell him about the change of plans.  
Three hours later the two Barkley ladies stepped down off the stage, handed down by Huckmeister. The old miner collected all their bags, and led the ladies toward the hotel where Nick and Jarrod had stayed. They had gotten rooms, and had started down the street toward the café, when Audra had stopped, staring down the street that led to the west. Victoria, walking with a hand on Huckmeister's arm, noticed that the young woman had stopped, and looked to see what had taken her attention. She could make out a group of horses coming toward them. It appeared there were several mounted men, leading a group of mules. She looked back at Audra just as the girl burst into a smile and gathering the skirts of her traveling dress in her hands, started running down the street.  
"Audra!" She called, shocked at the young woman's actions.  
Audra paused only for a moment, turning to look at her mother. "It's them! Jarrod and Nick and Heath. They're coming!" She quickly turned and started running down the street again. Victoria threw up her hands. She would have to have a serious discussion with Audra about her deportment. Perhaps she had been around her brother's too much. She lifted her own skirts slightly and with a nod of her head at Huckmeister they started quickly forward.  
Audra was halfway to the group of riders when she saw it. It made her pause for a moment, but then she started forward again, the smile gone from her face, but determined to get to them as soon as possible. As she approached closer she could see Jarrod frowning at her in that paternal way he had and Nick smiling at her. It was her third brother who caused her concern. Heath was on his black horse, but was pale, and much thinner than he had been when he left. He was riding stiffly, not all like his usual form. She had envied him that from the first, the way he flowed with the horse, moving as if he were one with the animal. All were bearded and dirty, though the older ones looked to be all right. Heath on the other hand looked like he was ill, pale and strained. She noticed that Nick was riding close to Heath's side, and keeping a watchful eye on him. As she came to a stop next to his horse Heath's blue eyes, so like her own, sparkled down at her.  
"Boy howdy. Ain't never had me a welcoming committee, and a right pretty one too. Might not want to get too close. I don't reckon I'm any to fresh." He said.  
"I don't care about that. I'm just so glad to see you." Audra said, putting her hand on Heath's leg. She looked around at her older brothers. "So glad to see all of you." "So we could tell from your approach. Dare I hope that you are not here alone running through the streets?" Jarrod kidded her. She mock scowled at him.  
"Mother is coming, along with that nice Mr. Huckmeister. He escorted us here from Redding," She looked at the men that were tied to their horses, and the loaded mules. "He told us everything that happened until you all went after the gang. Are these all that are left? Did you get the gold?"  
Jarrod raised a hand, looking down the street to where he could see Huckmeister and their mother approaching at a far more decorous speed. "Why don't we save the story for after we get these men and the gold someplace secure, and get a chance to perhaps wash off a few layers of dirt? I think it would be best to tell the story only once." He swept off his hat, and bowed slightly to the two people who were approaching. "'Hello Lovely Lady. It is good to see you. Your unexpected presence makes the town all the more attractive." He said gallantly.  
With a frown of displeasure at the unrepentant Audra, Victoria smiled at Jarrod, taking in the condition of her sons, and of the young man that she was coming to consider a son. Nick and Jarrod were obviously tired, and looked ready for a bath and a good meal. Heath looked pale, thin, and even more tired then his brothers and she could see he was keeping himself in the saddle mainly through strength of will.  
"I am very happy to see you all as well. I can see that you have completed what you set out to do. Perhaps after you take care of your prisoners and get cleaned up you can give us an idea of what has happened. Audra and I have taken rooms at the hotel. You boys can use them for now, and Audra and I will get another." Huckmeister could not believe his eyes, His mules, all of them were there, loaded with the packs, and several of the men who had betrayed him were tied to horses. He didn't recognize the other two, but supposed they were the remains of the gang that had attacked them. He slapped his knee with excitement. "I'll be hanged boys. I knew you could do it!" He crowed.  
They had drawn quite a crowd, among them the Marshall. He hemmed and hawed when he heard the story, but in the end, as Jarrod started quoting laws, he was forced to take the men into custody pending the arrival of the county sheriff. Huckmeister assured them that he would send the message himself. The gold was taken to the county assay office, where it was assayed and weighed. It came out to a very large amount, an amount that had Huckmeister nearly dancing with joy. It was only after all this was done, and the horses and mules were housed in the local livery that the three Barkley men were able to retreat to the hotel. Victoria had arranged for baths for all of them, and arranged for some crackers and light finger foods to be brought in so that the men could have something while they cleaned up.  
It was almost two hours after Audra had spotted them coming in that she answered the door to the room she was now sharing with her mother, the hotel not having another room. Jarrod stood there, his face clean-shaven, and wearing clean clothes. He smiled on his sister, and went forward to kiss his mother on the cheek as she sat in a settee near the window. He dropped another kiss on Audra's cheek, and accepted a drink from the bottle of scotch that Victoria had ordered up form the nearest saloon. Another bottle of whiskey sat nearby. He lifted his glass to his mother.  
"To you lovely lady. I suspect our return would have been nowhere near as smooth if you were not here, and not nearly as welcoming." He took a hearty swig of the golden liquor and smiled. "I must admit to missing that." He admitted. He went to sit next to his mother. "I assume that you received a telegram from Mr. Huckmeister and that is the reason for your presence?" he asked.  
She nodded in that regal manner that he loved. "Indeed. I felt that it would be better if we were here to coordinate any attempts to locate you, rather than trying to deal with people we didn't know via telegram. We had just arrived when your sister saw you." Audra's quick blush indicated that their mother had already had words with her about her actions, but Jarrod smiled at her.  
"And a welcome sight she was. I know I speak for us all when I say that you both have been missed." As he finished speaking there was a pounding at the door. "Ah, Brother Nick appears to have finished his bath. He was still lounging in the tub when I left the room." This hotel did not have a bathroom, but they had large tubs that could be brought to the rooms and filled with hot water. Audra rose to open the door as it shook under a second assault. Nick stood there with his hand raised, and smiled at her. He also was clean-shaven and in clean clothes.  
"Well there little missy. It's good to see you. Give your favorite big brother a hug." He said, spreading his arms for her. She smiled and stepped forward for a bear hug.  
"I already have, but I'll give you one too." She teased. He growled at her like a bear and gave her an extra squeeze. Nick went to kiss his mother, and spotted the glass in Jarrod's hand. "I hope you have something beside that stuff that Jarrod likes so much." He said. Before anyone could answer he spotted the whiskey and went to pour himself a glass. Victoria didn't bother to hide her smile at this rambunctious display. She had missed Nick's energy, as she had missed Jarrod's steadiness. Nick tossed down one shot, and poured another. He came to stand near the rest, looking around.  
"Heath hasn't come in yet? What's keeping the boy?" he said.  
"He chose to use the single room?" Victoria asked, worried that perhaps the problems that had sent Heath from the ranch had not been resolved. Jarrod shook his head. "We flipped for it. Heath won the toss. It seems that poker is not the only form of betting he wins at."  
"Yeah. The boy has more luck than a bag of horseshoes." Nick said, shaking his head fondly. Victoria was comforted by that tone. It told her that conversations had been undertaken, and problems worked out. Nick se the drink down and started for the door.  
"I'll go check on him. Make sure he didn't fall asleep in the tub." He disappeared out the door, spurs jingling merrily. The others talked about the ladies trip north for almost thirty minutes until they heard Nick's voice in the hall.  
"All you had to do was ask, boy. I coulda had that taken care of in a minute. You gotta learn to ask for help!" Nick swung open the door and ushered his younger brother into the room. The blond, like his brothers was clean-shaven, and was wearing clean clothes, though his looked brand new. Heath smiled the small smile that Victoria found so charming. Nick got Heath a drink of whiskey, and they all sat down. By unspoken consent, Jarrod was elected as the spokesperson and he related what had happened. Nick interjected several times, when he felt that Jarrod was leaving out important parts. Heath simply listened, his eyes moving from one to the next of his family as they listened. Victoria thought she saw a contented light in the blue eyes so like his father's.  
"And the rest you know." Jarrod finished. "I for one am glad that it is over, and look forward to returning home and to my office. I am afraid that Jingo will need to be exercised by someone else for awhile." The family shared a laugh.  
"Thank you for telling us the full story, Jarrod. We were very worried, but it seems that we needn't have been since you all were together, taking care of each other. Now perhaps we should go to dinner so that you all can get some rest." Victoria said.  
There was a soft snort from Nick, and he spoke with uncommon softness. "Looks like we'll be one short for that dinner. Little brother has beat us to the sleeping part." They all looked at Heath who had fallen asleep, lulled by the cadence of his brother's voice, the comfort of the chair, and the presence of his family about him.  
Victoria rose and gently stroked the blond hair back, and placed a kiss on the forehead that she was glad to note was not too hot. Audra stepped forward.  
"I'm not too hungry right now, mother. I'll stay with him in case he wakes. I brought a book with me. You and the boys go eat and bring something back for Heath and I." Though she was reluctant to leave any of her family behind, she also did not wish to wake Heath. She nodded and they prepared to leave. As Nick closed the door behind them, she looked back and saw Audra seating herself at her brother's feet, leaning against the chair by his legs. She held a small book of poetry in her lap. A ray of sunshine flowed through the window, catching the two blond heads and seeming to glow. The door closed, and she placed a hand on each of her sons' arm, and they started down the stairs. She smiled as they descended. Nick was telling Jarrod that Heath didn't have any clean clothes, and he had been in his room trying to beat the dirt out of what he had. Nick had simply gone next door to the general store and got some new stuff for him. He was describing the blush that had colored their brother's cheeks when he opened the door in his underclothes.  
She had been preying that her sons would return to her, that they would bring their brother with them, and that they would be together again as a family. Her prayers had been answered. **THE END**  



End file.
